


Finding Her Voice

by caveman_ghost



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gentleness, Past Abuse, Recovery, Romance, Smut, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26408716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caveman_ghost/pseuds/caveman_ghost
Summary: Brynjolf stumbles across a traumatized Kahjiit outcast and recruits her into the Thieves Guild. He finds himself falling for her as she fights to regain control of her life. But events neither of them could predict loom on the horizon.This is a Brynjolf/Dragonborn romance that takes place just before the events of the Thieves Guild quest and serves as a sort of prequel to the discovery of the dragonborn. Mild trigger warning for past abuse but I never go into detail. There is smut. If that’s not your thing I always post a warning at the beginning of the chapter!
Relationships: Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Brynjolf/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Brynjolf/Female Khajiit Dovahkiin | Dragonborn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Brynjolf's New Protege

Who the hell is this girl?

  
Brynjolf had spotted the khajiit right away when she padded into the market. Most of the other shoppers seemed completely unaware of her presence; their eyes slipped right over her and on to the next thing. Khajiit as a rule rarely went unaccosted in Skyrim's city markets, if they were allowed in at all. But this girl was slipping past even Riften’s known racists without comment. The only person who seemed to register her presence was the old beggar woman. She reached wordlessly out to the khajiit and to Brynjolf’s surprise the girl dropped a gold coin into the crone’s outstretched hand. A hood was drawn low over the khajiit’s face, but he thought he felt himself being sized up by the young woman from afar. Fair enough, he thought. I’ve been sizing her up since she walked through the gates. As he turned to scan the market for her again, he caught her eye. A shock of deep silver made his heart skip a beat. Just as quickly as he met her eyes, they were gone. Making up his mind, he started after her. She retreated down the nearest alley and he followed.

  
“Wait, lass!” he called. Damn, she was fast. She slowed and peered over her shoulder at him. He was again struck by the glint of her silver eyes. Like deep pools of mercury. She watched him haughtily as he jogged up. Her stance shifted almost imperceptibly as she sized him up, adjusting to his height and prepared to fight him if needed. He stopped a good distance away so as not to threaten her further.

  
“Don’t worry, lass. I won’t hurt you. I have a business proposition for you.” She said nothing, just stared unblinking at him with her unnerving gaze. Brynjolf hesitated a beat, taking in the rest of her appearance. She was short, even for a khajiit, though most people looked short to him. Her fur was a complex, dark grey, with spots almost like a human’s freckles sprayed across her cheeks and forehead. Marring her face was a series of deep claw marks, scarred over and rather off-putting. She wore little armor and her clothes were mended and well-worn. The girl’s tail twitched, drawing his attention, and she hissed almost imperceptibly.

“Speak.” She spat at him. Her voice was strange to him, very different from the other khajiit he had met. It had a strange lilt and was rusty with disuse.

  
“I saw you in the market. I’ve never seen anyone able to blend into a crowd like that. I think I could make good use of you. Are you interested in earning a little coin?” The khajiit sized him up, trailing her silver eyes from his boots to the mess of red hair he had always hated. Heat bloomed in his stomach for a second, quickly suppressed. Not a good idea, he told himself firmly.

  
“What. I do?” She said.

  
Brynjolf grinned.

“Brynjolf, your cat is here.”

  
Grumbling, Brynjolf swam up from the half-sleep he’d been in. Vex stood over him, prodding him awake. “Get out” he grumbled, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot and pulling his shirt on. Brynjolf had the so-called luxury of a private bedroom in the flagon, the luxury being so called because the room was tiny, cramped, and wet. He kept it as neat as possible, a holdover from the orphanage he grew up in. Members of the guild liked to tease him about it, but he paid them no mind. If they’d been beaten for not making their bed enough times, it would be a habit for them as well. He splashed his face with water from the basin and ran a hand halfheartedly through his tangled mane. Need to cut it again, he thought distractedly as he stepped out of his room. He strode into the Flagon, not surprised to see Delvin needling the new recruit over by the bar. If he isn’t more careful, he’s going to be picking his guts up off the floor.

  
“Hello again, lass. Glad to see you made your way here.” Brynjolf boomed. Delvin shot him a grin and tossed back the last of his drink.

  
“Oh, she made her way here, alright. Left a trail of bodies behind her, too. Maybe you can get a word out of her.” The old man laughed drunkenly and staggered off to a table, leaving Brynjolf and the silent khajiit together at the bar. She didn’t meet his eye, seeming uncomfortable.

  
“Don’t mind him, lass. He’s drunk more often than not and thinks everything on two legs wants to fuck him.” The girl shifted almost imperceptibly, her tail twitching and then wrapping slowly around one leg. Brynjolf couldn’t help but be fascinated by it. “Are you alright? You weren’t hurt on the way down here, were you?” She tilted her head, looking at him suspiciously. After a second, she cast her eyes downward.

  
“Killing them… sad to.” Her mouth worked for a second. “Apology.”

  
Brynjolf chuckled. “Lass, don’t be sorry. The Ratway is full of crazies. We never come that way because it’s riddled with killers and madmen. We send you that way to see what you're made of.” She didn’t respond. Brynjolf was taken aback by her sorrow. What kind of thief was this girl? Without thinking, he laid his hand on her arm. Her response was instantaneous; a startled hiss and her arm snatched away quicker than a blink. Brynjolf, startled, fell back a step.

  
“I’m sorry! I.. didn’t mean you any harm.” he stuttered. The pair stood awkwardly appraising each other. At length Brynjolf chuckled nervously.

  
“Let’s start over.” he said. “The name’s Brynjolf. I’m second in command of the Thieves Guild here in Riften.” He tried on a smile, found it awkward, and extended his hand to the khajiit. She hesitated, still clutching her arm to her body as if he had burned her with his touch. He waited patiently. Slowly she relaxed, just a fraction, and extended out her own hand. She gently grasped his and quickly took it back.

  
“My...name… Elia. Xadawi’i.” She said, the words forced out. “Want. Good work. For… gold. Sleeping place.” She seemed pleased with her little speech and Brynjolf thought he saw her flash the smallest of smiles.

  
“I think that can be arranged.” He paused “Sh-Shadowy? That’s your family name?”

  
The Khajiit shook her head. “Xadawi’i.” She made a gesture with her hand. Brynjolf frowned.

  
“Shadowy. Like, shadows.”

  
She shook her head again. Made a chopping motion. “Xadawi’i.” She cleared her throat, looked awkwardly at the ceiling. “Shhaah. Dah. Wee. Ee.” She met his eyes again.

  
“Xadawi’i.” he said, finally getting the pronunciation.

  
Her eyes narrowed into what he realized was a smile. She made a happy grunting noise and looked around the room.

  
“Sleeping place?”

  
Brynjolf led her through the passage at the back of the Flagon and into the Cistern. Elia halted suddenly at the threshold, startled by the sudden open space. Brynjolf waited patiently as she cautiously stepped into the huge room, peering about as if the roof might fall in on her at any moment. She’s so strange, he thought to himself. She acts as if the world is completely new to her.

  
“Here, lass. You can bunk up here. The other recruits sleep here as well. Ah, here come some of them now. That’s Rune, Niruin, and Sapphire.” He jumped as he felt something brush his back. Turning, he realized that Elia had slipped behind him and was peeking out at the approaching members. He could hear her fast breathing. It can’t be helped, she has to meet them eventually.

  
“Hullo there. Don’t be shy, we don’t bite.” Rune smiled at Elia, stopping a reasonable distance once he saw how uncomfortable the khajiit was.

  
“What’s her problem?” Sapphire shot, tactful as always. Niruin said nothing, as usual.

  
“Say hello, lass. No one here is going to hurt you.”

  
Elia awkwardly tilted her head to the watching members in greeting.

  
“What’s your name? Where are you from?” asked Rune.

  
“Ahh…” Elia hesitated, glancing nervously up at Brynjolf. “Elia… is name. Live… Everywhere.” she let out a little half-laugh. “Windhelm. Born.”

  
“Windhelm? Then why do you talk like that?” Sapphire looked around at the others. “Am I right? You don’t sound like you’re from Skyrim. You don’t sound like a khajiit, either.”

  
“Enough, Sapphire, we don’t need her life story.” Brynjolf scolded. Elia shifted guiltily and scratched the back of her neck. Brynjolf didn’t expect her to respond, but she stared at the ceiling and haltingly replied.

  
“I… talk. But I forget… My. words. I am… Alone.” she took a deep breath. “Alone, for… long… days.” She sighed, frustrated. “Not. Days. Long… Longer…” she trailed off, looking embarrassed. Bryjolf stared down at the girl. How long do you have to be alone that you forget how to speak? It certainly explained a few things. Her skittishness, for one. The strange accent for another. He watched Rune bustle her off to an available bed, lost in thought.

  
That night as he lay in his own bed, his thoughts kept straying back to Elia Xadawi’i. She was a being that embodied duality. Confident in battle and her own abilities as a sneak thief. Completely lost socially.

  
What was he going to do with her?


	2. Dreaming

It was the same dream again. It was always the same dream. Elia sat upright in her bed, the only light floating down from the ceiling of the Cistern. _It must be well before dawn; everyone else is asleep_. A silent tear escaped her and she wiped it angrily away. She hates the dream, hates the way it makes her afraid.

_I am sitting up high, so high that the land around me looks like a map spread on a table. The land is white. The sky is white. The water is white. I look at my hands and they hold a scroll. Then I am falling. Flailing as the mountains rush up to meet me. But the bone-break death never comes. Instead I kneel in a temple, facing a naked man who wears a golden dragon mask. The mask is huge and must be very heavy, but the man is dancing gracefully regardless. I cry and claw at my eyes: the burning ruby eyes of the mask will drive me mad._

Still shaken, Elia silently retrieved a book from the end of her bed. The khajiit padded soundlessly out of the cistern and into the Flagon, grabbing a quill and ink along the way. Sitting at a table with her book she began to write. She clutched the quill awkwardly and scowled in concentration as she began to copy the words from the tome. The primer had been a gift from Rune the first week she'd joined the guild. He was very protective of her and seemed to have a great deal of faith in her "prospect of rehabilitation", as Mercer Frey had put it. At Brynjolf and Rune's insistence, Elia was exempt from Guild duties for two months so that she could adjust to living in the city and learn to read and write well enough to manage.

_I wasn't always like this_ , she thought to herself often. _Once I was able to do these things. I just have to dust things off._ Already her speech had much improved. She had learned to read and write before, many years ago, but it had all slipped away in the time she'd spent alone. Sometimes Rune tried to ask her about her past, but as much as she liked him, she couldn't seem to spit out the words she needed to tell the story.

So she would just keep trying to find the words.

Hours passed and eventually a trickle of grey light announced that dawn had arrived. Vekel staggered out of his room and grunted in greeting as he started the cooking fire. Elia gently shut her book and put away her things, and then went to help him with breakfast. It had become something of a routine. She liked the feeling she got when the others ate food she helped prepare. And this morning she had a surprise.

"Vekel, look. I find these for you."

Vekel peered into the sack Elia held out to him and looked back up at her, nonplussed.

"What the hell are they?" he asked, his lip curling involuntarily. "They look unnatural." Elia plucked one of the round fruits out of the sack.

"It is a tangerine. They grow in the south, in the warmth." She held it out to him. "Smell. I got them from a boat." Vekel sniffed the fruit and grunted.

"You mean from a merchant ship?" Tonilia asked. She looked intrigued. Others started to file into the Flagon.

"What do you do with them? I mean, how do you eat them? They've got this weird skin…" Rune took the tangerine that Elia was holding and squeezed it tentatively. The group huddled around the bar turned as they heard the door to Brynjolf's room open. He looked around at them all grousily.

"What the devil are you all doing? Where's breakfast?"

"Look at these, Bryn. New girl got you something." Vekel tossed a tangerine to Brynjolf and left to fetch him a bowl of porridge. Elia sputtered.

"I- I got them for everyone. Not just for Brynjolf." The others laughed.

"Go on, then, show us how to eat them!" Tonilia teased. Elia brightened and peeled a tangerine with her thumb claw.

"The skin is not good for eating. It's bitter. You can use it for many things though. Keeps away bugs, good for sickness and potions. Smells nice, even after you let it dry. Some make perfume with it." Then she showed them how to separate the slices. Rune was the first to try a piece. The big Imperial's eyes lit up with joy when he tasted it. He grunted happily and set to work trying to peel his own. Vex was more wary and slinked off with her single piece, not letting on whether she liked it or not. The others took their fruits and went off to eat their breakfasts, leaving Elia and Brynjolf at the bar together. She watched him nervously as he appraised the little orange fruit.

"I like the smell," he said at length. "It's like… summer grass with dew underneath." he looked up at Elia as he held the tangerine to his nose. "Warm, but with a bite." Elia reached out her hand and Brynjolf deposited the little fruit. She felt heat rising in her cheeks as he intently watched her peel the tangerine in one long coil. His gaze was always so direct. Sometimes it made her nervous, but other times it felt… almost intimate.

_Stop._ She told herself firmly. _This is a dangerous path to walk._

At that moment Vekel arrived with Brynjolf's bowl of porridge. He nodded his thanks and stood with the bowl in one hand and the peeled tangerine in the other. After meeting Elia's eyes for the briefest moment, he turned and made his way back to his room. She made to tidy up the counter top and realized something was missing.

Brynjolf had pocketed the tangerine peels.


	3. Ko'arr

**Author's Note: *indicates a khajiit honorific or word, translated at the bottom of the page.. All information, including excerpts from "Ahzirr Traajijazeri" are from the Elder Scrolls Wiki.**

It had been nearly three weeks since Elia had stumbled into the lives of the Thieves Guild members. Every morning she woke before the others and worked on her reading and writing until it was time to make breakfast. No one had asked her to help with the cooking, but it was much improved. She had a habit of helping out without being asked. Whether it was tidying up the practice room, sweeping the Flagon, or retrieving firewood, when she had a spare moment she was off doing something useful. One evening Brynjolf caught her up as she came down the secret stairs carrying a stack of wood.

"Here, let me help you." He said gently, taking most of the wood before she could protest. "You don't have to do these things, lass. You aren't our maid." Brynjolf told her. The khajiit shrugged.

"I want to be useful. I don't steal anything yet."

"You will soon, if you keep up with your studying." He came to a halt just inside, out of earshot of the others. "Say, lass. Are you familiar with any of the khajiit caravans that travel through skyrim?"

"Mh, yes. I know some of these khajiit. Used to. But it has been many years since I spoke to them."

"I see. Well, one of our contacts is part of the caravans, and they will be here in a few days. I'd like you to accompany me to talk to him."

"M-Me? But…" Elia hesitated, looking at the ground. "I do this if you ask, but I am not… friends… among my people." She seemed to shrink into herself. "Why would you want me there?"

"Honestly, our khajiit contact doesn't like humans. I thought that maybe you would help him change his mind about the guild." He paused for a beat. "But I don't want to make you uncomfortable, lass. I leave it up to you." He turned and left her standing in the shadows. When he looked back, she was still staring at the ground, lost in thought.

Two days later, Elia woke to a note on her bedside table.

_**Caravan came in late last night. I'll wait for you by the front gates until sunrise.** _

_**Brynjolf** _

Still Elia hesitated. It was truly a coin toss as to whether her presence would help or hinder Brynjolf. Like anyone, she had friends from her past, but she also had more enemies than most, particularly among khajiit. _Am I ready to face them yet?_ She sat musing for a bit longer, until the memory of a clear voice came to her.

" _Standing still is your greatest enemy. Pick yourself up and make a decision. Whether you are right or wrong, people will never say you didn't try."_

Making her decision, Elia dressed and slipped out of the cistern. A few minutes later she spotted Brynjolf and slipped soundlessly up next to him. After a moment he started and cursed.

"By the gods, lass! Don't sneak up on me like that!" He laughed nervously. "I'm glad you came. Are you ready?" Elia drew herself up.

"People will never say I didn't try." She said, her voice sounding stiff but very clear. Brynjolf gave her a strange look.

"Alright then. Let me do the talking." Elia followed him out of the gate.

They could smell the caravan before they saw it. Elia found her mouth watering instinctively as her strong sense of smell picked up the scents of cooking spiced meat and the barely detectable scents of moon sugar and honey. Her tail twitched, feeling excited despite herself. As they rounded the corner of the stables the camp came into view. He and Elia approached a khajiit woman tending the fire.

"Good morning. I'm here looking for Ko'arr." The khajiit looked Brynjolf up and down, then turned her eyes to Elia. Her golden eyes narrowed and she shouted over her shoulder.

"Ko'arr! Come! Your idiot nord is here. And he brought a pet." She laid her ears back and hissed at Elia, abandoning the fire and stepping into her tent. Momentarily Brynjolf's khajiit contact emerged. He stood almost as tall as Brynjolf, with sandy reddish fur and a thick white braid trailing between his ears and over one shoulder. He grasped Brynjolf's arm and turned to appraise Elia. She shuffled her feet and averted her eyes as the big khajiit peered at her.

"I thought it was you, Elia. I didn't know you were back in Skyrim." He said, drawing a surprised look from Brynjolf. "And I don't know what you're doing with this big idiot, but it must be better than what I heard you were last up to. Come, share my meal, and then we can talk business, Brynjolf." The three of them knelt by the fire and Ko'arr passed them bowls of meat and rice. Brynjolf, never to turn down food, immediately shoveled the meal into his mouth, and Ko'arr took a couple of bites, pointedly ignoring Elia's awkward squirming. Brynjolf covertly looked over at her and was startled to see that she was near tears. No longer able to ignore Elia's discomfort, Ko'arr turned to the young woman.

"You may apologize, if you like." he said. Elia immediately set aside her bowl and dropped into a low bow, shocking Brynjolf by letting out a choked sob.

"I'm sorry, Ko'arr-dro*. I am sorry that I ran away." The older khajiit peered expressionlessly down at Elia.

"Q'zi no vano thzina ualizz." He said at length. "When I contradict myself, I am telling the truth." he added, translating for Brynjolf's benefit. "I know you feel much sorrow for leaving us when you did, Elia. But I think you are mistaken in thinking we were angry with you for leaving." Elia raised her face, her startling silver eyes wet with tears.

"You were all kind to me, not just Pakseech* Hasiir. But when he died I abandoned you." Elia replied quietly.

"As I have said. No one was angry with your choice. We knew Hasiir was the only thing holding you to us. I will tell you this, however. Though it is not for outsiders' ears." Ko'arr shot a steely glance at Brynjolf, who had the sense to look away as if he wasn't listening to their conversation. "I will not allow anyone in my caravan to harm you. But word of what you have done has reached skyrim. Do not come back here, and do not seek out other khajiit. You are cast out from your people for what you have done." Ko'arr made a strange motion with his hands, as if he were shaking water from his fingertips. Elia bowed her head again, but did not argue or seem surprised. Ko'arr let the silence spin out for a minute, then softened his gaze and gestured to the bowl of food. "Before you leave me again, share my meal. I am glad to have crossed your path again, Elia Xadawi'i."

Elia solemnly consumed the meal, gingerly placing the bowl at Ko'arr's feet before bowing deeply again. She then stood and turned to Brynjolf, who was still sitting in stunned silence.

"Apologies, Brynjolf, but I must return to the guild now. I hope that I have not caused you troubles." Without waiting for his reply or looking back at Ko'arr, she turned and strode back toward Riften. After she was gone, Ko'arr let out a great sigh.

"I am sorry to see what she has become. She has great potential inside her." he said. Brynjolf shook his head.

"This was pretty much the last thing I expected when I decided to bring her here. I'm sorry if I've offended you somehow, Ko'arr."

"No apology is needed. I was more shocked than you can know to see that girl again. Although, she is not a girl any more."

"Can I ask…"

"No." Ko'arr said firmly. "You may not. The story behind Elia's exile must come from her, and she might never be ready to talk about it." The khajiit sighed. "I am sorry, but it is our way. However, I can satisfy your curiosity on one point: Elia travelled with our caravan for some years when she was but a girl. Our previous leader, Hasiir, caught her in a snare accidentally. She had been living on her own in the wilds after being driven from Windhelm some years earlier, and was following our caravan, stealing our food. Hasiir taught her to speak, read and write. We loved that girl like one of our own, and eventually he adopted her. However, soon before her eighteenth birthday, he died of old age. It broke her heart, and she slipped away one night. I had not seen her for eleven years until you brought her to me this morning." Brynjolf shook his head sadly.

"That explains a lot, but raises more questions than it answers." _What has she been doing for eleven years? And why has she been exiled?_

"I can answer no more of them. But I will tell you another saying of the khajiit, one that I think applies most strongly to Elia. 'Vaba Maaszi Lhajiito'; 'It Is Necessary To Run Away'. Do you know what it means?" Bryinjolf shook his head.

"It means that no khajiit will stand and let themselves be slaughtered. If there is an escape to use, we will use it. It is not shameful to us to run away from a fight we cannot win. That is how Elia has lived her entire life. Remember that."

"I will, Ko'arr."

"Enough, then. Did you bring me shiny things to sell, or not?"

It was after noon by the time Brynjolf headed back to the guild. Passing through the graveyard on his way to the secret entrance, he spotted Elia's black tipped ears poking out from behind a gravestone. _I don't know what to say to her, but I should let her know that she's still welcome with us._ He detoured and lowered himself to the grass next to the khajiit. She didn't acknowledge him and he didn't say a word. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. _She's not that much younger than me,_ he thought, _but divines know she's been through enough._

"I won't let anything happen to you, lass."

The khajiit said nothing, but after a moment, leaned to the side and rested her head on Brynjolf's shoulder.

They sat that way for a long time.

_*-dro: Honorific meaning a wise elder or patriarch (masculine)_

_*Pakseech: roughly the word for a clan leader. In this case, the honored elderly leader of a caravan._


	4. Sleep Well

**Author's Note: This one is a little short because originally it and the next were all one chapter. That made a crazy long chapter though, so I split them! Please enjoy :)**

"It's been a month, Bryn. How's your little project going?" Mercer Frey downed the rest of his ale and poured himself another from the flagon resting between them. He and Brynjolf were tucked away in their meeting room at the Bee and Barb, balancing the books and discussing the upcoming jobs of the guild.

"Going well. The girl is still uncanny at making herself hidden. She can cut my purse without me noticing nine times out of ten. And she's terrifying with a bow." Brynjolf sipped his ale. "As far as the other things, she can definitely hold her own in a conversation, so long as you don't raise your voice. She's speeding along at reading and writing. She's learned before, she's just forgotten it all. So that's helping."

"So what's her story? She was nearly catatonic when you first brought her in. She was so desperate for coin she'd have done anything you asked." Brynjolf shook his head.

"Dunno, boss. Could be a lot of things. My first thought was slavers, maybe even an escaped capture from the Falmer. Remember that lad Mjoll brought to the orphanage? She reminds me of him in a lot of ways. He'd forgotten how to talk after being stuck down there with them." He sighed. "But I think her biggest issue is that she's been alone for a long, long time. Something definitely happened before then, but it was really the isolation that made her the way she was. A little patience and kindness have done her a world of good."

Mercer grunted."When can she start making us some money?" Brynjolf laughed.

"I still say give her another month. Let her shadow some of us on small jobs so she understands how we run things. But after that, she'll be a force to be reckoned with."

Brynjolf staggered into the Flagon several hours later, thoroughly drunk. Mercer had stayed behind to indulge at Haelga's, a little relationship that slightly disgusted Brynjolf. Something about that woman wasn't right, but it was none of his business who the boss wanted to roll around with.

_One more drink. Divines, I'll regret it in the morning, but I just want one more._ He rummaged around behind the bar, finally setting sights on his personal stash of mead.

"Are you alright?" came a familiar, lilting voice. Steadying himself against the bar, Brynjolf peered out and realized he wasn't alone in the Flagon. Elia sat off to one side, primer and quill spread out in front of her. She wasn't in her armor, he noticed. She wore a Dark blue tunic and loose breeches instead. _Gods, she's beautiful._ He shook his head as if clearing flies and gestured at her with the bottle.

"It's late, lass. What are you doing here?"

"You are drunk." She replied, the amusement clear in her voice. Brynjolf pointed at her and gingerly made his way to her table, plopping down across from her.

"Oh, and what would you know about being drunk, lass?" He slurred.

She laughed. It was a clear, untroubled sound, the first real laugh he had ever heard from her. His heart throbbed painfully for a beat.

"Your laugh is beautiful." he mumbled. "Oh, no." She tilted her head at him, her clear, silver eyes piercing his.

"Oh no?"

He nodded drunkenly at her. "You're trouble, that's for sure."

Again, the laugh.

"Let's get you in your bed. You will feel terrible in the morning if you drink more. Come." Elia stood and offered Brynjolf her hand. He hesitated for a split second, remembering her reaction when he'd offered her his own hand less than a month ago. Then he slipped his large callused hand into her small, warm one and let himself be led. She opened the door for him and he staggered over to the bed, sitting heavily on the edge. Sighing heavily, he started trying to pick at the buckles of his guild armor, but gave up almost immediately and sat staring at his hands.

"Pitiful," Elia said, and matter of factly unbuckled his cuirass and boots. Brynjolf watched in detached, vague pleasure as she tugged off his boots and set them aside. She took a step back and crossed her arms. "Well?" she gestured at his chest. "Can't you do the rest?"

Not bothering to hide his smile, Brynjolf shook his head.

"You laugh. You are teasing me! After I am nice to you when you are drunk."

"I would never."

"You are! I should let you sleep in your stinky armor. And let the buckles poke you."

"I like you like this, lass. You're feisty."

"I am not that!"

Brynjolf laughed loudly. "You don't know what it means, do you? Oh, hahaha!" He laughed harder, falling backward onto the bed. "Oh gods, I'm going to be sick. Don't make me laugh like that." He took several long, deep breaths, willing himself not to vomit.

There was a long silence. _She must have left. I pissed her off_.

"Damn. I wanted her to keep taking my clothes off." He said quietly to himself. Resigning himself to his fate, he sighed and started to drift off to sleep.

"Then sit up, stupid Nord." Her small hands tugged his shoulders and gently pulled him upright again. With his eyes closed so the room would stop spinning, he couldn't read her expression. _I shouldn't have said that._ Elia tugged the cuirass over his head and set it aside, gently pushing him back onto the bed. He really was drifting off now. The last thing he remembered was a gentle hand stroking back his hair, and Elia's voice.

"Sleep well, Bryn."


	5. The Lake

Brynjolf slowly swam up from his drunken slumber several hours later. Head throbbing, mouth parched, he gingerly swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Vague memories of the night before started to come back to him. He groaned, feeling his cheeks burn. _What is it about her that makes me turn into such an idiot?_ After dressing, he shuffled into a near-empty Flagon and forced down some rabbit stew.

"I'm going out, Vekel. If anyone needs me, I'm going down to the lake." Brynjolf could often be found walking the lakeshore on his off days, especially when recovering from a night out with Mercer. The breeze that blew in off the lake was better than any other hangover cure he'd found, and he liked to get away from the bustle of Riften every once in a while. There was a small, secluded inlet he was aiming for. He'd set it up years ago, when the guild was at its height and the Flagon and Cistern were bursting at the seams with members. When things got too crowded, or he had a row with Mercer, he would slip away and spend a day or two at his little hideout. He rarely visited these days, but kept a trunk there with a bedroll, some spare clothes, and fishing gear tucked under a stone shelf. _Might take a nap when I get there. I still feel lousy._

As he neared the grotto, he slowed. _Something's not right. I think someone's there._ Instinctively crouching and creeping around the corner of the outcropping that marked the entrance to his little haven, Brynjolf soundlessly peered into the little clearing.

It was Elia. Her back was to him, and she stood knee deep in the shallow water. Her hands hovered delicately just over the water, her twitching tail the only thing that moved. _What the hell is she doing?_ He mused. Suddenly her hands shot into the water and came back out with a fish. _I'll be damned_. She tossed the fish into a basket sitting on the shore he hadn't noticed. She was wearing the same blue tunic as last night, Brynjolf noticed, with her breeches hiked up past her thighs. Her bow was slung over her back. His eyes lingered for a second on the khajiit's exposed legs, unable to help himself. She reached up above her head in a stretch, and her tunic rode up, exposing a few inches of her flat stomach. Her fur's lighter there, he thought, all of the blood rushing suddenly to his face. Brynjolf, you idiot. He scolded himself, wrestling with the boiling feelings of attraction and guilt and firmly shoving them down.

This hesitation was new for him. Usually, if he wanted a woman, he went for it. He couldn't deny his attraction to the khajiit, but it felt wrong to pursue her. _She's just rejoined civilization, she doesn't need some big nord trying to get under her armor. We still don't even know what she's been through: who knows what it would do to her if I..._ flashes of exactly what he wanted to do to her flooded his mind for an instant and he barely suppressed a groan. _No. It's a bad idea._ He told himself firmly, taking several deep breaths before rising and approaching the clearing more openly.

Unsurprisingly, the khajiit flinched at his approach and sank further into a crouch, her lips drawing back into a snarl. Brynjolf waved his hands guiltily.

"I'm sorry, lass. I didn't intend to startle you." he soothed. _Point proven._ Elia relaxed a little, but didn't rise from the water.

"What are you doing here? Did you follow me?" She challenged.

"No, nothing like that. I'm wondering now if you followed me," he teased. "How else would you have found my secret hideout?"

"Yours?" She looked around the little cove. "It is a good spot." she gestured to the basket. "Fish think so too. They think 'nothing can catch me here'. They are wrong."

"Is that a khajiit trick, catching them bare handed like that?" Elia shook her head.

"No, it is my trick. Khajiit use nets and poles like you." She paused, shifting her gaze away from him. "Where I lived before I had no nets or poles. I catch them like this or I am hungry."

"Can you teach me?"

Elia appraised him, considering. "I can try," she said at length. Smiling, Brynjolf pulled off his boots and set them aside. He rolled up his breeches and waded out into the shallow water.

"First thing," Elia began, "is that the water lies. You have to learn that the fish is not exactly where it looks. It is always off to the side of where you can see it. Do you understand?" Brynjolf nodded. "Also, fish can sense your hands coming. So keep them close to the water, like this." She hovered her hands just over the water and Brynjolf copied her. "Now you wait." The two of them stood in silence for a long stretch. At length, fish started to appear, swimming around their legs and drifting tantalizingly close to their waiting hands. Once, Brynjolf thought he had one and tried to snatch it out of the water.

"Damn." He cursed as the rest of the fish skittered off.

"Don't worry. They will come back." Elia said. "It is okay to make a mistake." They stood in silence again, and sure enough, the fish came back. This time it was Elia who missed. She sighed. "You are distracting!" she shot at Brynjolf.

"How am I distracting?" He laughed. "I'm just standing here!" Elia wagged a finger at him.

"You smell!"

"I- I smell?!" Brynjolf stammered. "I do not smell!"

"Yes you do. You still smell like your drinking and your nord sweat." She shook her head and gestured at the lake. "Take a bath!" Brynjolf laughed.

"Who taught you to say such mean things?" He teased.

"I already know how to say mean things, you make it easy to remember." She shot back, turning and marching out of the water. He made to follow. The khajiit turned and waved her hands at him in disgust. "No! I mean it, Brynjolf. Bath!"

"What, here?" _Gods, this is a bad idea_.

"Yes! What, lake water not good enough for you? I sit, I wait." And with that, she turned and stomped off to sit on a piece of driftwood, dragging the basket of fish with her. Laying down her bow and taking her knife, she started to clean the fish. With a shrug, Brynjolf waded back to shore.

 _He really does stink_ , Elia thought to herself. Making a point to loudly scrape the scales off the fish she was holding, she surreptitiously directed her gaze to where Brynjolf sat on the shore. He'd unbuckled and removed his cuirass, depositing it and his weapons to one side. As she watched he peeled off his undershirt, revealing broad, freckled shoulders rippling with muscle. He had several small scars, and one large one on his left shoulder that was clearly the remnant of an arrow wound. His deep red hair hung in a mass over one shoulder as he stood, hopping on one foot to remove his leather breeches. _Gods, is he going to get completely naked?_ Elia thought, feeling a note of panic. But no, he was wading into the lake again still wearing his underclothes. She turned her full attention back to the fish, its dead eye staring up at her. She felt a deep sense of sadness suddenly, and had to swallow a watery sigh. _Since when did seeing an attractive, naked man fill me with panic?_ She thought to herself. _Once, I would have stripped down and followed him into the water._

Elia watched him swim out a ways and dunk his head under the water. _He wants me_ , she thought. _But he sees me as damaged goods._ She sighed. _He's not wrong. But… I want him too._

Her mind flashed back to the night before. Seeing Brynjolf lay peacefully as he drifted off to sleep had woken some remembrance in her. _Once, I looked down at a man like this... and_ … She had snatched her hand away in fear then, clutching her hands to her chest as the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. A flash of blood came to her and she scurried from his room.

Sitting in the sunlight, with a fresh lake breeze ruffling her ears, she suddenly felt just as afraid as she had the night before. Eyes glazed, she considered the knife in her hand, turning it to reflect the sun. The sparkling reflection pierced her gaze and she dropped the knife with a spasm. At the same moment, she felt hands on her shoulders. She screamed and leapt to her feet, clutching her cheeks. There stood Brynjolf, shirtless and dripping, breeches and boots on again. He had tied back his dripping hair.

"It's me, lass! I'm sorry, it's just me." Elia lowered her hands, letting out a shaky breath. "You've been staring off into space and wouldn't answer when I called. I'm sorry, lass. I shouldn't have touched you." He shrugged helplessly. Elia covered her eyes, not wanting him to see the tears that were starting to flow. She took one step toward Brynjolf, then another. He spread his arms hesitantly. "Come here, girl. It's alright." She closed the gap between them and allowed herself to be held as she finally let her tears fall.

He held her like that for ten minutes or so, letting her cry silently into his chest. Elia barely reached it. The khajiit barely made a sound as she cried, but he could feel her shaking and the occasional tear trailed down his stomach. Hoping it wasn't the wrong move, Brynjolf reached up and stroked the back of her head. She stiffened for a split second, but released a deep sigh and nestled deeper into his arms. After a few minutes she stopped shaking and spoke, her voice muffled.

"I'm sorry that I cried." she said. Brow furrowing, Brynjolf gently grasped her shoulders and looked into her face. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Elia," he said softly. "You don't need to apologize. I'm.. not intending to pry… But whatever it is that you've been through…" he faltered, not sure what to say. "You don't need to apologize." he repeated. Elia sighed deeply.

"Brynjolf, you are kind. But you don't know…" gently, but firm, she disentangled herself from his arms. "It is not...what I have been through. But what I have done." She crossed her arms, grasping her elbows as if chilled. "I… should go." She turned abruptly, gathering her things. Brynjolf wasn't sure what to do.

"Elia…" he began.

"You… you smell much better," she said suddenly, cutting him off. "And… your hair looks nice like that." His hand shot up to the still dripping mass of his hair, cheeks burning.

"I hate my hair." he grumbled. Elia chuckled and slipped past him. Before he could react, she reached up and tucked a lock behind his ear.

"I like it." she said, smiling sadly at him. With that, she strode quickly from the clearing, leaving Brynjolf standing, dumbstruck, in the sun drenched clearing.


	6. The Long Road

**Disclaimer: This chapter contains explicit violence and mentions abuse and sexual assault. You have been warned!**

Elia woke with a start as the wagon bumped over a stone. For a split second she forgot where she was and felt a surge of panic. _Not the damn Imperials again!_ After a moment she regained her bearings and peered around sleepily. Rune, sitting opposite her with his arms folded, grunted.

"Why in Oblivion do we have to go all the way to Solitude?" He grumbled, echoing Elia's sentiment.

"Because you two are the newest members, so you get the worst jobs, and I have an uppity Argonian to threaten." Brynjolf answered, equally grumpy. This was the fifth day of their journey, and they were all exhausted and sore. Elia took a drink from her waterskin and rolled her shoulders, trying to shake away the sleep and stiffness.

"It should be less than a day until we arrive. We passed through Morthal while you slept." Rune told Elia. She grunted in response. Rune met Brynjolf's eye and the two shared the same thought. _She's still not talking._

The trio had started out from Riften before dawn, Brynjolf and Rune carrying full packs laden with camping gear and food supplies. They'd been taken aback when they realized that Elia only travelled with a bedroll and a small satchel strapped to her hip. She had been rather amused by their unwieldy rucksacks and insisted on peeking inside to see what they were full of. She was especially amused that Rune had brought a book.

"What about you, then?" he'd teased. "You're going to freeze, and starve."

"We'll see," she'd replied, unfazed.

The first night she had scoffed at the others, who had settled in to eat their supper of jerky and baked potatoes. She stalked off into the evening, returning less than twenty minutes later with a brace of rabbits.

"Maybe I shouldn't share them," She teased.

"Come on, lass, don't let us starve," Brynjolf cajoled, as Rune pretended to cry. Rune and Brynjolf elected not to comment when they all settled down to sleep, as Elia curled into a ball, wrapped herself tightly in her sleeping bag, and nestled until unseen into a drift of leaves. Indeed she was the most rested in the morning. For the next two days she was the most at ease and chipper than either of the men had ever seen her. Rune convinced her to read to them from the book he'd brought as they rode, and Brynjolf was surprised at how well she managed.

"You definitely read better than Vekel," he'd commented. Elia flashed him a smile that shot right through his heart. He felt his cheeks burn and pointedly ignored Rune's knowing grin.

On the third day, things went terribly wrong. It began to rain. The three of them pulled up their hoods and did their best to stay comfortable, which was how they did not come to see the khajiit hailing the wagon. Before they even registered his presence, he tossed the driver a coin and was clambering into the back of the wagon, greeting them cheerfully.

"Fortune smiles upon this meeting! This one will ride with you a ways." He smiled around at them, exclaiming in recognition as his eyes fell upon Elia. "Well met, sister!" he said. Elia nervously bowed her head in greeting, but did not speak or turn her face to him. A little put off by the cold response of Elia and the others, the khajiit faltered. Brightening, he produced a folded oilskin. "This one is called Ketsaba. Might I interest you in my wares? I carry the finest jewelry from the sands of Elsewyr." He unfolded the oilskin, producing a set of fine silver jewelry. The khajiit's eyes narrowed slightly as Elia turned even further from his gaze. Pressing on, he offered the parcel to her. "Surely the lady recognizes the fine craftsmanship of these wares? I bring them all the way from Riverhold, the city that is my home." Elia shrank even further from him.

"I don't think she's interested, friend." Brynjolf said, his voice dropping an octave in irritation. "No offense, but none of us are."

"Ahh…I see." the khajiit responded, tucking away the jewelry. They rode in silence for a while. Just when Brynjolf thought the khajiit was going to take the hint and keep his mouth shut, he addressed Elia directly.

"Forgive me, sister, but where are you from? I have met so few khajiit in this cold land." Elia hesitated for a beat, then responded softly.

"I have lived in Skyrim for most of my life."

"Ah, have you never seen the sands of Elsweyr, then? I am sorry for you if this is the case." he replied, eyeing her. Brynjolf slowly slipped his hand to the pommel of his dagger. _Something isn't right._

"I… lived in Dune, for a time." Elia responded.

"Oh, yes? And what did you do there?"

"Err… I…" She faltered, meeting Brynjolf's eye. She looked near panic. Unable to come up with a response, Elia floundered into silence. Ketsaba looked smug.

"It is as I thought. This one has heard of the outcast travelling with the red-maned Nord!" he spit on the floor of the wagon and leapt to his feet, brandishing his finger at Elia as she cowered away from him. "Befouler! Dry heart!" He hissed and made to take a swipe at her. At that, both Rune and Brynjolf leapt to their feet and wrestled the big khajiit off the wagon. The driver slowed to a stop, turning in his seat with wide eyes as he watched the scene unfold. Byrnjolf, Rune, and Ketsaba landed bodily in the mud. The pair struggled to restrain the khajiit as he spit and cursed. Finally, Rune dealt him a blow on the back of the head and the livid khajiit sagged in their arms. Brynjolf dropped him in disgust and climbed back into the cart.

"Divines, are you all right, lass?" he asked, taking Elia by the shoulders.

"Y-yes, I'm alright." she replied, visibly shaken, but uninjured. "Leave him, Rune. It's alright." she called. Rune shrugged and aimed a last kick at the prone khajiit, clambering into the cart as well. He leaned forward and slipped some gold to the driver.

"Let's double time it away from this milk-drinker, what do you say?"

"Sounds good to me," said the driver, and clucked the horses to a trot. The three thieves sat silently for a moment. The rain had slowed to a drizzle.

"I'm sorry Brynjolf. It seems you are lumped in with me, now. It is sure to cause you trouble." Elia said, shaking her head miserably. Brynjolf laughed.

"I'm used to trouble, lass. Don't worry on my behalf."

The driver kept up his speed and, at Rune's request, kept on an hour after dark. When they finally stopped to make camp, Elia immediately retreated to her sleeping bag. Once she was firmly burrowed into her leaf pile, Rune turned to Brynjolf.

"Alright, what in oblivion was that all about?" he asked in a low voice. Brynjolf shrugged.

"I know she's been exiled from Elsweyr, but that's all I know." he sighed. "I don't know enough about khajiit to make any guess as to why. Whatever it was has made her _very_ unpopular."

"I'll say. That idiot was ready to kill her." He nudged Brynjolf. "I'd have thought you'd know more." Brynjolf raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, and why is that?" he said, thankful that the darkness hid the low blush he could feel creeping into his cheeks.

"You know why. I was under the impression that you two…"

"No. You thought wrong." Brynjolf replied, trying to seem nonchalant. Rune rolled his eyes.

"And why not? It's clear to me that she's interested. And you've always been easy to read." Brynjolf hesitated, peering over at where Elia lay.

"It doesn't seem… appropriate." he said lamely.

"Give it a rest, Bryn. You've slept with half the women in Riften, and their being members of the guild never stopped you before."

"No… it's not that." Brynjolf rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. "It's just that… she doesn't seem… ready… for that kind of thing." Rune nodded slowly, rubbing his chin.

"We still don't know what happened. But if anyone is going to find out, it'll be you. She trusts you, Bryn."

"I'm not so sure about that one, friend." he replied, thinking back to their conversation at the lake. "I don't think she even trusts herself."

They stayed awake a while longer, eventually dousing the fire and dropping off to sleep.

Brynjolf was awake in a flash, Rune bolting upright next to him. The sounds of a struggle carried across their camp: a thump, the loud rustling of leaves, and snarling. In the moonlight Brynjolf could make out a figure looming over Elia's sleeping bag, one hand dragging her out by the neck, the other brandishing a dagger.

"No!" He shouted, clambering toward the two khajiit. Elia snarled and bucked wildly, trying to escape the bigger khajiit's grasp.

"For my prince!" Ketsaba wailed. "You murdering bitch!"

As he brought down the knife, Brynjolf still feet away, Elia kicked out with all her might, her foot landing squarely and snapping the khajiit's arm in an instant. Still twisting, she brought her claws and teeth up to her attacker's throat, cutting off Ketsaba's wail of pain before it could escape his throat and ripping away his life. She crouched over his corpse and let out a guttural yell that chilled Brynjolf and Rune to the bone. Brynjolf fell to his knees less than a foot away, unable to tear his eyes from the blood dripping from Elia's fangs. As he stared, the fierce energy that had possessed Elia melted away, and a keening sound escaped her throat. She rocked back onto her heels, clutching her bloody hands to her chest as her unearthly wailing sounded through the camp.

"By the gods, Brynjolf, help her!" Rune said, shaken. Not stopping to think, Brynjolf reached out and plucked the small khajiit from the ground, making soothing sounds and carrying her away from the still bleeding body of Ketsaba. She quieted immediately and clutched his shirt, her eyes glazed and bloody mouth slack. He carried her to the edge of the stream winding along the western side of camp and sat her gently on the bank, kneeling in front of her.

"Elia, are you hurt? Did he cut you?" She didn't respond, just went on staring. Brynjolf gently felt her arms, checking for wounds. She appeared unhurt, though she was covered in blood. "Elia." He snapped his fingers in front of her face. She turned her eyes to him, but gave no other response. Rune stepped out of the foliage, carrying a stack of clothes and a wineskin.

"Here, Bryn. Get her cleaned up. Take your time, I'll get things cleaned up at camp."

"Elia, drink this." Brynjolf cajoled Elia into taking a long draught from the wineskin. "I'm going to clean you up now, is that alright?" he asked. Still no response. Brows furrowed in concern, he unbuckled her armor and lifted it over her head. He checked her again for cuts and found none. "Okay, come on, lass. Let's get you rinsed off." He led her to the water and rinsed her hands. "Elia, I've got to take off your shirt, okay?" Getting no response, he turned her away to preserve her modesty and peeled off her undershirt. He tugged the shirt Rune had provided over her head and used the bloodied one to wipe the gore from her face. Lastly he wrapped a cloak around her shoulders and helped her into a new pair of breeches, which was difficult as she had started to tremble violently. Sighing deeply, Brynjolf lifted her onto his lap and nestled her slight body against his. She slowly stopped shaking, and eventually spoke, in the voice of a sleepwalker.

"I killed him." she said.

"Aye, lass."

"I slit his throat while he slept." she said, her voice stronger. Brynjolf shook his head in confusion.

"No, lass. He attacked you." he stroked her face. "You're confused." Elia locked her silver eyes on Brynjolf's.

"No, Byrnjolf. I waited until he was asleep. I drugged him. And then… I took the knife… And drew it across his throat." She blinked up at him. "And then, I laughed."

"Elia, what…"

"Prince Ma'taba. He could do anything he wished. And he wished to keep me there, locked away in a tower for years. I was his little plaything. His little puppet of a wife to be used and beaten." She turned her face away from Brynjolf's gaze. "I murdered him, Brynjolf. Murdered my husband."

 _So that's it, then._ He thought.

"How did you get away?" he asked quietly.

"I had a friend, a scholar, who used to visit me. She knew what he was doing to me… brought me food when he tried to starve me… healed my wounds when he went too far. She was bound by oath to his service, and it wounded her grievously every time she went against him to help me. Upon his death she was freed from her oath and used all of her magic to spirit me away. Her name was Ashima." She heaved a great sigh. "I woke up on an island in Lakvan Lake, alone. I stayed there for three years until… until I came to Skyrim."

"Lass… Elia…" Brynjolf turned her face so he could look into her eyes. "What you did… That took strength. Courage. You took back your life from a man who did not value it. You shouldn't be ashamed of that. Damn him, and damn anyone who thinks you are less for what you've done."

Elia did not respond, but nestled closer to Brynjolf. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and they waited silently for the dawn.


	7. Sleeping in Solitude

**MATURE CONTENT AHEAD, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED ;)**

Brynjolf thought he had never been happier to see The Winking Skeever as he was today. _I've gotten soft,_ he thought, rubbing his lower back and wincing as he, Rune, and Elia made their way toward the inn. _I used to sleep on a stone floor, work for twelve hours in the mine, then do it again. And now I can't even ride in a wagon for five days without my back going out._ He paid for their room and the three of them staggered upstairs. Their room was small but comfortably furnished with a table, two beds and a cot. A tray of food had been sent up before them. They eagerly devoured the meal and though it was till early in the day, all three of them promptly fell asleep.

Brynjolf woke a few hours later, somehow even stiffer than before. Groaning, he joined the others sitting at the table. Rune was eating again while Elia leafed through a book. He looked Brynjolf up and down.

"You alright, Bryn?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just sore."

"You should stay here and rest a while longer, boss. I'm going to take Elia and get her some clothes, and knock out that numbers job Delvin asked me to do. We'll be back before dinner."

"Aye, good thinking. Lass, I'll need you to help me with that job at the Blue Palace, so make sure you get something presentable, too." She nodded in response and set down her book. Once downstairs, Rune held up a hand.

"Wait. Let's get a pint, first." he said, heading to the bar. Elia shrugged in answer. After getting their drinks, Rune led them to a quiet table tucked away in a corner and slid Elia her drink. She held it with both hands and sipped her drink, her gaze drifting around the room. Rune drank deeply, belched, and leaned back in his seat, eyeing the khajiit.

"So, are you ever going to speak to us again?" He said. Elia narrowed her eyes at him. He held her steely gaze until she rolled her eyes and took another drink.

"Yes, I suppose I will," she replied primly, wiping foam from her whiskers.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" Rune asked. She sighed. After a few minutes, she began to speak, staring into her tankard.

"When I was a child, living with the caravan, I was… hard to handle." she laughed humorlessly. "I was wild. Literally. I kept getting sick because I wouldn't wear shoes, and I slept in trees when I could get away with it. One day Hasiir, the caravan's leader, caught me playing with a bird I'd caught. I had broken its wing and was letting it flutter a ways before smacking it back down. I didn't really know any better. Hasiir was furious. He was even more furious when he caught me at it again a few days later, after he'd explained why it was wrong. So he grabbed my arm, twisted it behind my back, and tied it, so that every time I tried to use it, it hurt me. Then for three days he assigned me all of the camp labor, while the others were instructed to laugh and point at me while I struggled in pain to carry firewood, water, and the like." she caught the look on Rune's face and smiled. "Yes, it was cruel. But you have to understand that I didn't learn like other children. He had to _show_ me what I was doing to that bird."

"I guess it worked, didn't it?"

"Oh yes, a little too well. I had nightmares that I was the bird, or that I was the deer we hunted, or the rabbit in a snare. I swore to never kill again, except to feed myself. Of course, the way of the world meant that I broke my own oath eventually."

"Everyone has to kill sometimes." Rune said gently.

"Oh yes, you're right." She said, and drained the rest of the ale. "But I hate it. I'm sorry I worried you, Rune. I've been lost in thought. Sometimes it's… easier for me… to stay in here." She tapped her forehead with a finger.

"About… that khajiit…"

"I… don't really want to talk about it. I'm sorry." Rune waved his hands.

"No, please, I'm sorry. It's none of my business."

"Well…" Elia mumbled. "I… trust you, Rune. You have been a good friend. Brynjolf knows the whole story, now. If… If you wanted to ask him, I would be alright with him telling you."

"Alright, Elia. If you're sure." Rune drained the rest of his drink. "All right, girl. Let's get you some clothes, and earn the guild some coin."

"Rune, I feel like a fool." Elia said, picking at her new dress. "This wasn't what I had in mind."

"Sorry, but this is the style here." He nudged her with his elbow. "Bryjnolf's going to love it."

"Shut up, Rune." She blushed and punched him on the arm. They had replaced her ruined clothes and had deferred to the tailor to choose the dress for Elia. The tailor had laughed in her face when Elia had suggested wearing robes to the palace instead. So here she was. The dress was deep blue, with a cut much lower than she would have liked, and even worse: a corset. The red leather tucked and… lifted… in a way she was unaccustomed to. She ducked her head in embarrassment as a passing guard ogled her. Rune laughed and ushered her into the Winking Skeever. Rune bustled into their room, depositing the packages and greeting Brynjolf cheerfully. Elia hovered in the doorway, embarrassed. Brynjolf lay on his side, facing the wall.

"Feeling any better, Bryn?" Rune asked. Brynjolf grunted.

"Back's killing me. Blasted wagons. Every damn time." Rune grinned broadly at Elia, beckoning her inside.

"Here, Bryn, this will cheer you up."

Brynjolf groaned and rolled over, grimacing. The pained look on his face slid off as he saw Elia. Forgetting about his back for a moment, he sat up quickly, eyes wide. Cheeks burning, Elia crossed her arms and turned aside.

"I look stupid." She grumbled.

"You look beautiful, lass." Brynjolf said. Catching the smug grin on Rune's face, He rolled his eyes and settled back onto the bed, trying to look nonchalant. _Got her talking again. Good man, Rune._

"Well," Rune said, "the night is young. What shall we amuse ourselves with tonight?" Brynjolf scoffed at him.

"I'm not going anywhere with you, you scoundrel." He shook his finger at Elia. "Don't let him corrupt you, lass. This idiot takes his revelry too far."

"You wound me! Just because I like to have a good time…"

"Oh, no. Your idea of a good time would land us all in prison. I told you, I won't go out drinking with you anymore."

"That was one time!" Rune protested. Elia chuckled and pointed at Brynjolf.

"You're one to talk. I seem to remember having to put you to bed one night." she teased.

Brynjolf laughed and shook his head. "No way, lass. That was nothing. You party with Rune, and you pay the price."

Rune raised his hands in defeat. "Fine, fine. I have an idea that's more your speed. May help with your back, as well." Brynjolf perked up at that, but still looked suspicious. Rune grinned widely.

"The Skeever Springs!" He said with a flourish.

"Definitely not." Elia said firmly. "Khajiit do not like water."

"Alright then." he pouted. "What about you, Bryn? It'll make you feel better." Brynjolf considered for a moment and shrugged.

"Sounds good to me." They said goodbye to Elia and made their way downstairs.

They had noticed the signs when they arrived that morning plastered all over the common room of the Winking Skeever. From what they gathered, the owners had diverted a stream and, using magic, had created an artificial hot spring. The barkeep took their coin and led them to the little grotto.

"It's actually pretty nice," Brynjolf admitted in surprise. The water splashed down from a small overhang and into a deep pool, streaming off again downhill. There was a little vestibule where they disrobed and stored their clothes before slipping into the steaming water. Brynjolf grimaced as his back twinged again. He and Rune soaked comfortably for a while.

"Good job getting Elia talking again." Brynjolf said at length.

"Aye, we had a little chat before we left this morning." he told Brynjolf about their conversation. "She's had a rough time."

"You don't know the half of it." Brynjolf said.

"So I gathered. She said it would be alright if you told me about it." Brynjolf sighed, lost in thought for a moment. He summarized what Elia had confessed to him.

"Obviously she was justified," Rune said, disgusted. "How could they exile her for that?"

"I got the impression that the whole story didn't get out." Brynjolf said, stroking his chin. "Seems like they still think this Prince of theirs was innocent, and apparently he was rather popular. So from their point of view, his wife murdered him in cold blood, then fled."

"That's such bullshit," Rune scowled and slapped the water in frustration.

"Aye. But unless she finds a way to set the story straight, she's still an exile." They sat in brooding silence for a while longer, until Rune suddenly perked up.

"All right then, I'm off." He announced merrily, clambering out of the water.

"Where in Oblivion to?"

Rune smiled and lay a finger on his nose. "Oh, there's a very _flexible_ lad at the Bard's College I need to see." Brynjolf rolled his eyes. Rune helped him out of the water, they dressed and headed back inside.

"Try to be back by tomorrow afternoon." Brynjolf told him, then headed upstairs. _Gods, my back is still stiff. Better, though._ He knocked on the door to their room and entered. Elia was curled up on one of the beds reading. She looked up as he entered. _That dress is going to be the death of me._

"Feeling better?" She asked, tilting her head.

"A little. Shame you don't like water, it was surprisingly classy." he walked back to his bed and lay face down on it, wincing. Elia sighed at him.

"Does your back always bother you when you travel?" she asked. He grunted.

"Didn't use to. I had a bad fall about… ten years ago, now. Got spotted during a burglary and had to bail out of a second story window. I landed on my feet, but something popped in my back and it hasn't been the same since."

"Hmm." Elia looked thoughtful. She set aside her book and came to the side of Brynjolf's bed. "Take off your shirt." she commanded. Not inclined to argue, he did as she asked without rising from the bed. He jumped slightly as she touched his back. "Relax. You're too tense." Elia scolded. He made an effort to unclench his muscles, but Elia's presence was making that difficult. She began prodding his back, along his spine on either side. About halfway down, she poked a spot that was so sensitive that Brynjolf jerked away in pain and buried his face in the pillow.

"I'm sorry. I don't have to ask if that hurt." She laid her hand on the spot. "It is as I thought. Hasiir had a similar affliction. Part of your spine is weak there. You can have a mage concentrate a healing spell just on that spot and it will trouble you no further."

"I see." he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Thanks."

"I know how to massage your back... If that would help." Brynjolf shot a look over his shoulder. Elia's hands still rested on his lower back, but she wouldn't meet his eye. His eyes trailed unbidden down to the neckline of her dress. _Oh Gods._

"If you're okay with that... I'd like that. Thank you."

She started at his shoulders, kneading gently. Her hands were warm. At first Brynjolf couldn't relax. He could smell her. _She always smells like those fruits… tangerines. And… that dress... Gods, she's killing me._ He tried to relax, taking deep breaths and willing himself not to get aroused. Elia continued to work on his shoulder blades, not speaking. Slowly his muscles unknotted and he floated along on the heady sensation of her hands on his skin. Her touch became gentle as she neared the sensitive spot on his spine, and she tenderly rubbed the spot for a long time, applying light pressure.

"Is that helping?" she asked softly. He mumbled in the affirmative and she chuckled softly. Her hands moved to his lower back, kneading the tense muscles there. A groan involuntarily escaped him as she used her thumbs to loosen a particularly stubborn knot. She seemed to like that. _What in oblivion_ , he thought. _A woman has never made me groan like that._ Brynjolf felt himself start to sweat. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep himself under control. He found himself thankful that he was face down.

Elia slid her hands from his lower back to his sides, still applying pressure. He exhaled sharply and twitched. _That tickles!_ He thought frantically. As he reacted, Elia gripped him, her claws suddenly pricking his skin, eliciting a whimper and, to his surprise, a painful throb from his now-straining erection.

"Relax," she demanded.

"I can't," he replied, nearly panting. "It...It tickles," he whispered, embarrassed.

"It tickles because you're too tense." she scolded. He glanced over his shoulder at her, begging her with his eyes. Her silver ones answered back with dark amusement. _She knows exactly what she's doing to me._ "If you can't stop squirming, I'm going to poke you with my claws."she said matter of factly. Brynjolf moaned softly in response.

After a moment, she continued her massage, gentler than before. _That's- that's not so bad, he thought. I can handle this. But oh gods, her claws…_ he felt a wave of heat. Unexpectedly she hit another ticklish spot and he pulled away involuntarily, only to be met with another pinch of her claws. He moaned pitifully. He was practically shaking with arousal now. Once more she resumed rubbing his sides, trailing her hands over his ribcage. "Elia…" he whispered, almost begging. She didn't respond, but slid her hands deliberately down to his hips, kneading the tough flesh there. He whimpered softly, hating and loving the control she was having over him. She slipped her hands just beneath the waist of his breeches and whispered her claws over his hip bones. That was it. Brynjolf came with a shout, grasping the bedsheet in his fist as waves of pleasure crashed over him. He groaned loudly, twitching as he rode the tail end of one of the most intense orgasms of his life.

"Oh, gods, Elia. Why would you do that to me?" he panted, finally opening his eyes to look at the khajiit sitting at the foot of his bed. She looked immensely pleased with herself.

"You deserved it." She replied, covering her mouth and giggling. He propped himself on his elbows, still slightly out of breath, and smiled slowly at her. He watched as her eyes lingered on his bare chest.

"I like hearing you laugh," he said.

"It...feels good," she replied. "I'll try to do it more."

"I… need to clean up. I'll be right back." Brynjolf carefully got out of bed and slipped down the hall to the washroom with a change of he returned Elia had moved back to her bed. "My back feels better. Thank you." Hesitating for only a second, he went and lay next to her. Smiling, she shifted until his head lay in her lap. Brynjolf sighed as she began to stroke his hair.

"I've never been so relaxed in my life," he said quietly. He could feel himself drifting off. "Sorry, lass. I'm just so tired."

"It's alright, Bryn. Just rest."

He grumbled happily. "I like when you call me Bryn."

"I like when you call me lass."

Brynjolf swallowed dryly. "That...that thing you did with your claws… I liked that."

"Yes, I gathered." she teased. Brynjolf propped one eye open and glared at her playfully.

"I've never… I mean… I didn't know… it could be like that." he stammered awkwardly. "The...pain, I mean." He faltered as she eyed him with the same dark glee he'd encountered earlier.

"I gather you've never been with a khajiit." she said. Brynjolf shook his head, a little sheepish. Elia resumed stroking his hair, humming deep in her throat. With some amusement, he realized she was purring. "Khajiit have always balanced pleasure with pain, in love, and in many other aspects of life as well." Brynjolf averted his gaze, a blush creeping into his cheeks.

"I've never had a woman… _control_ me like that." he admitted.

"Did you like it?"

Brynjolf found he couldn't answer. His pride said no, but the warm feeling stirring in his stomach said otherwise. He took a deep breath and met Elia's eyes.

"I think… with you… I could like it." He mumbled, trying to be honest. Elia purred louder, pleased. They sat in silence. Brynjolf started to fall asleep again. Watching him drift off, Elia thought to herself, _With you, I could like anything you'd do to me._

Rune staggered into the room just after dawn, unsurprised but thoroughly pleased to find Brynjolf and Elia snuggled together in the bed. As quietly as possible, he slipped into his own bed and promptly fell asleep.

_About damn time_ , he thought.


	8. Thieves After All

Looking back, Brynjolf thought it was incredible how quickly everything turned to shit for them in Solitude. He woke on their second day in the city feeling shockingly well rested. It took him a second to realize why he was so warm; Elia lay with her back to him, wrapped in his arms. He let out a pleased sigh as he inhaled her scent. Rune was obviously back: the snoring was probably what had woken him. Gently slipping his arm out from under Elia, he sat up and stretched tentatively. There was hardly any pain in his back now. Elia mumbled something in her sleep and curled into a ball as Brynjolf gingerly climbed out of bed. It looked to be midmorning. He dressed silently and went downstairs to order them all some breakfast, returning to find Elia sitting up in bed, peering about blearily.

"Morning…" she mumbled. Casting a blank look at Rune, who was somehow snoring even louder, she rubbed her face and joined Brynjolf at the little table. The fur on the back of her head stuck out in odd places and she tried to smooth it, smiling shyly at Brynjolf. "I haven't slept that soundly in years." she said.

"Same here. If it weren't for Rune, I could have slept all day like that." There was a soft knock at the door as their breakfast arrived. Elia immediately went for a jar of preserves and piled an obscene amount onto a slab of bread. Brynjolf wolfed down a pile of bacon, an egg, and a hunk of bread with jam before Elia had even finished her slice.

"Gods, Bryn, don't eat so fast. You'll be sick." she commented as he went for a second slice of bread. He shrugged sheepishly.

"Habit," he said around a mouthful. He swallowed. "I've been hungry too many times. If there's food in front of me, I'm going to eat it."

"Is that from living at the orphanage?" she asked gently. Brynjolf nodded. "I'm sorry. It's not really my business. It's just… you know so much about me, and I don't know anything about you."

"Fair enough," he said, blushing slightly. "I'm not very interesting, though."

"I think it's interesting. Tell me about where you grew up."

Brynjolf leaned back in his chair, thinking. When he responded, his eyes didn't quite meet Elia's.

"My parents had five other children. They couldn't afford to take care of all of us. Once I was old enough, they sent me to live at the Shor's Stone Home for Children. It was an orphanage, really, but a couple of other children there had families who'd given them up as well." He sipped his drink, considering what to say. "It was essentially slave labor. We worked at the mines every day. The kids old enough to swing a pick worked in the mine, the younger ones pushed carts or sorted ore, that kind of thing. It was… rough." he admitted. "We were always hungry, or sick, or injured. Sometimes kids died. Some ran away when they were old enough. I lived there until I was nine, when I snuck off to Riften."

"I'm sorry, Brynjolf. That's a hard way to grow up."

"It is what it is." He responded gruffly. "It turned out alright. Gallus, the previous guildmaster, caught me trying to pick his pocket. Instead of turning me over to the guards, or beating me, he bought me a meal and taught me everything I know."

Elia reached out and touched Brynjolf's hand. He felt himself blushing slightly and scolded himself. _Why does she make me so flustered? And why is it so easy to tell her these things… things I don't tell the others._ Elia must have read the confusion in his face, because she opened her mouth to say something. She was interrupted when Rune stirred, letting out a groan as he sat up in bed.

"Hmm… food?" he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He staggered over and began shoveling food into his mouth, eyes drooping. They finished the meal in silence. Around noon, the thieves left the inn and split into two groups. Brynjolf needed to meet with an Argonian who had been giving Mercer the runaround. Rune and Elia had been assigned to pilfer valuables from the palace: Rune from the steward's office and Elia from the quarters of the Jarl's court wizard.

Elia had little trouble slipping into the palace. She entered through the servant's quarters, pretending to be a messenger, and padded silently to the upper level, where she easily located the court wizard's chambers. There she pocketed several valuable gemstones, as well as an assortment of soul gems and potions. She was in and out in less than an hour. She waited for Rune nearby and once he arrived, pockets loaded with contraband, they spent the afternoon selling off what they could. They made quite a bit, and only had a few odd items left over that they hadn't been able to pawn. Pleased with their success they returned to the inn and deposited their coin and loot in their room. Brynjolf arrived soon after and the three of them passed the night getting thoroughly drunk in the common room.

Their third morning in Solitude dawned foggy and cool. It was to be their final full day in the city; they planned to leave sometime in the evening the next day. Brynjolf briefed them over a subdued breakfast. They were all slightly hungover. Elia was assigned to complete a slew of pickpocketing jobs throughout the city. Her uncanny silent movement and light fingers made her a perfect pickpocket. Rune had a small list of things he was supposed to steal for Delvin, including a goblet, a gilded model ship, and a ceremonial dagger. Brynjolf had still more guild business to conduct, he would be stuck at the docks all day securing contracts and business deals.

Elia's day went exceedingly well. Twice she had to stop back at the inn to deposit gold, as her pockets got too heavy. Late in the afternoon she completed her last assignment and decided to wander the markets and do a little shopping. The fletcher proved to be her undoing, and she spent the majority of her coin there on a set of deadly looking Elven arrows. She particularly enjoyed the open market and treated herself to a tantalizing roasted nut treat. Slipping away with her prize, she tucked herself away under a shady tree. Khajiit are especially fond of sweets, and Elia was no different. She ecstatically licked all of the honey coating from the treat and only then ate the rest. She was just considering getting up to buy another when she spotted Rune. For some reason he was wearing a guard's uniform and was being led by a tall Nord wearing the same. She couldn't hear them, but the Nord was clearly irritated with Rune, and gestured in annoyance at a spot near the entrance of the market. Rune saluted and took the position indicated, pulling the guard helmet over his head. The Nord stomped off to speak to one of the vendors, looking exasperated.

Curious, Elia slipped around the market and sidled up beside him. He didn't notice her and fiddled nervously with his shield.

"What are you doing?" she whispered. He nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Elia!" he hissed. "Gods, Brynjolf is going to kill me." in a hushed tone, keeping both eyes on the other guard, he told Elia what had happened.

Rune had snuck into the Guard Captain's office, and had just slipped the ceremonial dagger he was supposed to be stealing into his satchel, when the captain himself burst into the room. Thinking fast, Rune said he was there to join the guard. The captain took one look at the hulking man and paired him up with a shift captain.

"The bastard hasn't let me out of his sight!" Rune moaned. "I think he knows something isn't right. If I slip away now he'll raise the alarm and we'll be in serious trouble. I hid my bag outside the barracks; go and get it. I think I can get away after I finish the shift. I'll be back at the inn by morning."

"Rune, you idiot. I'll get the bag. Just lay low." Elia hurried away before the other guard noticed her and went to hunt up Rune's bag. It was right where he said it would be. Shaking her head in exasperation, she made her way back to the inn. It was starting to get dark.


	9. An Interruption

**Content warning for explicit language and sexual content this time, loves. Enjoy!**

Brynjolf couldn't believe it when Elia told him about Rune. Part of him wanted to laugh, and the other wanted to give Rune a punch in the face. Another part of him, louder than the other two, was pleased at the prospect of having the evening alone with Elia. He and Elia sat at a table in the common room of the Skeever, sipping mead and picking at their meal.

"How much mead would it take to get you up there singing?" he teased, gesturing to the bard. Elia scoffed.

"More than what the Skeever has in their cellar, that's for sure." She sized him up. "I bet it wouldn't take much to get you singing, though. You look like a bard."

"Not sure if that's a compliment or an insult, lass."

"Both, probably."

Brynjolf took a long draught of mead. "As a matter of fact, I do sing. Most Nords like to sing, even if they can't carry a tune." he let out a chuckle. "Once, when I was young, I posed as a bard for a job. Robbed this rich fellow blind and slipped out the back. Next day, he saw me on the street and asked me to come back and sing for him! Said his spirits needed lifting, as someone had robbed him the night before!" he slapped the table. "He paid me double!" He and Elia howled with laughter.

"Well, go on, then," she said, making shooing motions. "Get up there and sing me a song."

"Nah, lass. Someday I'll sing you a song. But it's best not to attract too much attention tonight." he said with a sad smile. He tilted his glass to her. "Nice work today. I imagine Mercer will want to start sending you out on your own, once we get back."

Elia looked embarrassed at the praise, but seemed pleased. Brynjolf raised his glass.

"To Elia, and how far she's come." Brynjolf toasted. Elia smiled sheepishly and clinked her glass against his. They both drained their drinks. Brynjolf's head was swimming pleasantly. He caught Elia's eye and they both smiled.

"I think I'll turn in." he said, getting to his feet. Elia followed suit.

"I may as well follow," she said, shaking her head to clear it. "I've had enough mead for one night." They made their way upstairs. Brynjolf pulled off his boots and armor, stretching and splashing his face with water from the basin. He could hear Elia behind him, and turned as she made an exasperated noise.

"What is it, lass?" he asked. She looked embarrassed.

"Don't laugh." she warned.

"On my honor." he replied, smirking despite himself. The Khajiit threw her hands up in frustration.

"I can't figure out how to take it off!" she admitted.

"What, the dress?"

"Yes, the blasted dress. This… thing… around my waist, how am I supposed to get out of it?" She demonstrated, reaching around to loosen the ties on the corset. Her fingers just brushed the laces but couldn't quite reach. Despite himself, Brynjolf burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry, lass! I didn't realize." he said, still chuckling. He stepped across the room towards her. Elia glared at him dangerously.

"This is your fault- I could have just worn my armor! But no. Now I am trapped in this… this… female contraption."

"All right, all right. It's my fault." he said placatingly. "In my defense… you look incredible in it."

Elia scoffed, turning away in embarrassment. "Don't tease me."

Brynjolf didn't reply, but let his eyes roam, not hiding his gaze as it lingered on her hips and chest. She met his smoldering gaze for a second and he saw the same longing in her eyes. He took one step, then another, closing the distance between them. Reaching out, he placed his big hands around her waist. I'm going to get her back for last night.

"What is it that you want me to do?" he asked, challenging her. He heard her breath quickening, felt it under his hands. She glanced up at him, reading the desire in his face.

"I…want..." she whispered, not meeting his eyes. _I have to be careful here,_ Brynjolf thought. _I don't want to push her too hard._

"Say it." he rasped.

"I want you to… undress me." she said, stronger this time. He paused for a beat.

"Is this alright?" he asked, gently lifting her chin until she met his eyes.

"Yes, Bryn." she responded breathlessly. "Please."

"Then turn around." he said firmly, grabbing her hips and facing her away from him. His hands lingered there for a long moment. Then he slid them around to her flat stomach, encircling her in his arms, and brought his face down to her neck. She gasped lightly as he buried his face in the fur there and inhaled her scent. Not lifting his hands, he trailed them firmly from her stomach upwards, just under her breasts, before bringing them around to her back and up to her shoulders. His warm breath tickled her ear. There he slipped his fingers under the fabric of her dress and slipped it just off her shoulders. Her breasts were still covered, but just barely. Brynjolf could see the tops of them rising in short bursts with the Khajiit's quick breathing. He slid his hands from her shoulders and down onto her chest. Elia moaned softly as he trailed his fingertips over her, just barely avoiding the curve of her breasts.

_I can feel her trembling,_ he thought. _Gods, she makes me crazy._ Brynjolf made a point to keep a modicum of distance between them; his erection was starting to strain against his breeches. He dug his fingers into Elia's fur, raking his hands down her back toward the laces of her corset. She shivered, her breath hitching. Smiling to himself, he quickly unlaced the corset and let it fall. Elia sighed in relief.

"Thank you." she rasped. Brynjolf grumbled deeply and gripped her waist again.

"Tell me what you want." he growled, breathing in her ear.

"Please…" she mewled. "Touch me." Brynjolf groaned and slid his hands up to her breasts, pressing himself into her back. She bit back a moan as she felt his dick pressing against her, and he squeezed her gently, her hard nipples rubbing against his callused palms. He sank his face to her neck again and suckled there, Elia craning her neck to give him better access. Brynjolf reached up and tugged the dress and the slip underneath down, releasing the Khajiit's breasts and causing her to gasp in arousal. He was fascinated by them and leaned around her neck to study them from above. They were smaller than most women he'd had, but round and firm. The fur there was very short and freckled, like her face. Her nipples were black and hairless. He reached up again and took one in his hand, rolling the nipple between his fingers and marveling at the contrast of their skin. Elia moaned pitifully.

"Oh, Bryn…" she whispered. He took the other globe in his hand and lightly pinched both nipples. She yelped in pleasure and ground back into Brynjolf. He grunted and pulled her nipples harder, reveling in the way she panted in desperation. Releasing her suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her so she faced him. His mouth found hers, and suddenly, finally, they embraced in a passionate kiss. Their lips bruised against each other and she moaned as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. After a minute, they came up for air.

"Gods, I've wanted to do that for a long time," he told her. She smiled and pulled him back into a deep kiss. He gently pulled away as she tugged at his shirt, letting her yank it over his head and toss it aside. She trailed her hands across his chest and gently raked her claws over his firm stomach. Brynjolf shuddered and reached out for her. He gently steered her to the bed and tugged the dress the rest of the way off. Suddenly shy again, Elia made to cover herself. Brynjolf slowly guided her hands away and drank in her naked body. Her fur was nuanced, dark gray, almost black in some areas, sprayed all over in the freckle-like spots. From beneath her breasts, trailing down over her stomach and ending at her mound the hair was almost white.

"You're beautiful." he said, and meant it. He pulled her into another deep kiss, carefully lowering them to the bed. Elia reached out and gripped his thighs, her claws slightly pricking the skin beneath. He gasped and bucked a little at her touch. Without responding he moved lower on the bed.

She was making to pull the front of his breeches down when, with a clatter, the door to their room popped open. With a screech, she covered herself and curled toward the wall. Brynjolf nearly fell out of the bed with shock.

Rune stood in the doorway, looking horrified. He looked from Brynjolf to Elia, and back to Brynjolf. With a yelp he covered his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he howled.

"Seriously?!" Brynjolf shouted.

"I'm sorry!"

"Get! Out!"

"I can't! Gods, I'm so sorry, I cant! They're looking for me, we have to go!" He cried.

"I'm going to murder you, Rune. Get out while we get dressed." Brynjolf spat. Rune scrambled to leave. Brynjolf touched Elia's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit embarrassed."

"Don't worry about it. Come on, get dressed. I'll pack our things." In a daze, he gathered his own clothes and dressed, ranging through the room making sure they weren't leaving anything. Once Elia was dressed in her armor, he opened the door and shoved Rune's pack into his arms.

"I'm sorry, Bryn." Rune said pitifully.

"Shut up and lead the way." Brynjolf responded.


	10. A Costly Escape

**Author's Note: Teeny-tiny content warning for violence this time. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

Brynjolf, Elia, and Rune slipped out of the Winking Skeever, weighed down with plunder. The main gates, clearly visible from their position, were closed and no less than six guards milled around the entrance. Cursing, Brynjolf led them around the back of the inn. Crouching in the dark, they weighed their options.

"Any ideas?" Brynjolf whispered. Rune shook his head.

"Is there an underground here, like in Riften?" Elia asked.

"Aye, there is, but I don't know it, or how to get in. We'd just get lost." Brynjolf replied, thinking hard. Elia pointed.

"What about that?" she said with a grin. They followed her gaze. Rising from the gloom behind the inn, the outcropping that surrounded the Skeever Springs clung to the wall that surrounded the city. It was jagged, and damp, but at first glance seemed climbable.

"I haven't got a better idea. Lead the way, lass." They made their way to the rock face, Brynjolf and Rune eyeing it nervously. Elia sized up the formation and began to climb.

"Follow my path exactly and you'll be fine." she whispered, seeing the men hesitate. With a sigh, Brynjolf reached up and started to clamber along behind Elia. The agile Khajiit made it look easy, but Brynjolf and Rune were soon sweating and out of breath. They were nearly to the top when they heard a shout. A guard at the gate had spotted them. Elia scampered up the last few feet of the outcropping, reaching down to help Brynjolf up behind her.

"Hold them off while I help Rune," Brynjolf commanded. Rune had lagged behind and was anxiously scurrying to the top. Elia fitted an arrow to her bow and dropped the nearest guard. Brynjolf leaned down, grasped Rune by the arm, and hauled him bodily over the ledge. Panting, the men scrambled over the parapet, followed closely by Elia. Now on the walkway atop the wall, the trio dashed to the nearest doorway. A few yards away the door burst open and a guard appeared, immediately falling to the ground as Elia's arrow found its home in his neck. They clambered over him and started down the staircase, Brynjolf in the lead. He drew his dagger as they heard more guards heading up the stairs.

"If we can get down another level, we'll be able to access the outer wall." he said. Elia and Rune nodded grimly. The staircase was only wide enough for one to pass at a time. Brynjolf was on his own against the coming guards. With a roar, he charged ahead, catching the first guard by surprise and knocking him back into the others. His dagger flashed and caught the next guard under the chin. Scrambling over the bodies of his fallen mates, the third and final guard lashed out with his sword and caught Brynjolf on the greave. His armor intact, but his arm stinging, Brynjolf ducked and struck out, cutting the guard down at the knees. The thieves hurried on, Brynjolf panting. In an instant he fell to his knees and skidded down a few steps, the arrow embedding itself in the stone next to Elia before they even heard it whistle through the air. Acting on instinct Elia loosed her own arrow and heard it hit home. She knelt next to Brynjolf, her heart in her throat, as Rune leapt over them and continued on. Brynjolf was kneeling, his fist pressed against his scalp, where blood welled between his fingers and pattered on the floor.

"I think I'm alright. It just grazed me." he gasped, as Elia gingerly lifted his hand. It was impossible to tell how bad the injury was, as it bled profusely and matted Brynjolf's already tangled hair. "Really, lass. I'm alright. Let's go. We'll look at it later." Without a word Elia helped him to his feet and led him down the passage. Blood continued to cascade down his face and into his eye. He wiped it savagely away and grinned darkly as Rune came into view. Rune had slain two more guards that waited in the circular room they were now in. Stairs continued downward on one side, a barred door on the other.

"Bryn, you're alive." he sighed. "Come on. This way." He lifted the bar off the door and hurried through, brandishing his axe. No one waited outside, however, and the three of them scurried out and down the wall. Brynjolf staggered as they entered the tree line. Not slowing, Rune and Elia swooped in on either side and half-carried him until they were deep into the forest surrounding Solitude. There, they slowed and set Brynjolf against a tree. He was still conscious, but lay limp and panting as Elia rummaged in her pack for a waterskin. She leaned Brynjolf forward and gingerly poured the water over his wound. He hissed and gripped the earth, trying not to cry out. After she emptied the skin over his head, Elia gently parted his hair and took a look at the wound. It was a long, shallow furrow nearly the length of her hand. It wasn't a mortal wound, but it needed to be properly cleaned and bandaged as soon as possible, and it continued to bleed freely as she inspected it.

"Here," Rune said, offering her an undershirt from his pack. She pressed the cloth tenderly against the wound and placed Brynjolf's hand over it.

"Hold it there, Bryn. You'll be alright. You've just lost a lot of blood." He nodded slightly. "We've got to keep going for a while. Is there any way you can carry him?" Elia asked Rune.

"I can't do it forever, but I should be able to for a few hours." He knelt next to Brynjolf and lifted him. They moved on, slower now.

They marched through the night, Elia leading the way as Rune struggled to haul Brynjolf across the countryside. She led them directly south, hoping to lose any pursuit in the rough country that signaled the boundaries of the Reach. As the sun began to rise, they picked their way down a steep hillside, ending in a narrow ravine that ran with a cold, clear stream. Following the stream they eventually came upon a small cave set in the cliffside. Elia helped Rune scramble up into the little grotto and promptly made a bed for Brynjolf to be laid upon. Rune sprawled beside him, completely spent.

"Stay here and start a fire, I'll go get some food and water." Elia told him. She returned an hour later with three rabbits. Rune started preparing a stew while she ripped another shirt into bandages, dropping them into a pot of boiling water. Kneeling next to Brynjolf, Elia stroked his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and he made to sit up. Elia gently pushed him back onto the bed.

"Not so fast." she whispered. He cleared his throat and turned his head to look around the room, wincing as the dried blood on his face and scalp crackled.

"Where are we? Is there any water?" he rasped. Elia helped him drink from her waterskin.

"We're far enough from Solitude, don't worry. Can you walk? We need to get you cleaned up."

"I think so, if it's not far." Rune helped Elia guide Brynjolf down to the edge of the stream, then left them alone.

"How bad is it?" Brynjolf asked.

"It's not too bad. If I can get it cleaned and bandaged you'll be fine…" she trailed off.

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously. She grimaced.

"I'm going to have to cut your hair to treat it properly." Brynjolf grunted.

"Go on, then. I don't care."

"Alright. Lay here, with your head over the water." She helped him to the spot she indicated and drew her knife. His skin was white and clammy, his eyes set deep in dark circles. After a moment's hesitation, she began to gingerly saw at the matted hair around the wound. His deep red hair floated away downstream as she frowned in concentration, cutting Brynjolf's hair until it was relatively even all around.

"Tilt your head back into the water," she instructed, supporting his neck with her hand. He groaned in discomfort as the icy water rushed over his open wound, dissolving the crusted blood that covered his scalp. After a few minutes Elia lifted his head and gently washed the blood from his face as well. The wound was bleeding again, though not as much as before. She patted it dry and applied a poultice, finally wrapping it in the bandages she'd made. Exhausted, Brynjolf leaned against her. She let him rest for a moment before they returned to the cave, where she bullied him into eating a large bowl of rabbit stew before bundling him into bed.

"I'll take the first watch, Rune. Get some sleep." Rune fell onto his own bed and promptly fell asleep as Elia situated herself in the cave mouth. It wasn't until she was certain both Rune and Brynjolf were asleep that she buried her face in her hands and took a deep, shuddering breath. _I thought he was dead_ , she thought. The way her heart had stopped when he fell, the dawning horror she felt when she saw blood dripping down his face, stilled her. _I don't know what I would have done if… Gods help me. I think I love him._

Far from filling her with good feeling, the thought turned her cold with fear. _I shouldn't be loving anyone,_ Elia told herself harshly. Being alone with Brynjolf the last few days had clouded her judgement. A brief but ruthless argument with herself followed.

_He's your boss._

_But he kissed you._

_Only after you came onto him._

_Well, he's obviously attracted to you._

_So what? Wanting to bed me doesn't mean he's in love with me._

_You're just afraid._

She shook her head to clear it.

_Continuing this is a bad idea. I need distance. I need… control._


	11. Pants

They stayed in the cave for three days, letting Brynjolf get his strength back and waiting out any search parties that may have been sent out for them. Once they left their hideout they headed East to Dragon Bridge, where they were able to hire another carriage. Their journey back to Riften was uneventful, but subdued.

Elia was having strange dreams again. They were usually the same: the man in the golden dragon mask. Only, he was speaking to her now, in a language she couldn't understand. The words shook the very air as she cowered at his feet. He reached out to her with hands that burned her skin. Sometimes she dreamed _she_ wore the mask. It was too heavy, and crushed the air out of her lungs. The dreams were not new, but they seemed to grow in power as they crossed Skyrim's countryside. She was thankful when they neared Riften.

By the time they arrived, Brynjolf's wound was healing nicely. Elia couldn't get used to his short hair, even though she'd cut it herself. He seemed self-conscious about it, constantly rubbing the back of his neck. Rune, surprisingly, refrained from teasing him about it. He also hadn't said a word about walking in on them at the inn, for which they were both grateful. Brynjolf, not wanting to rush Elia, was keeping his distance. She seemed lost in thought most of the time, and Brynjolf often caught himself watching her as she stared off into the distance. When they did speak, it felt clumsy and forced. It was a relief to get back to the Thieves Guild, where the bustle of activity around the Flagon and Cistern could cover their awkward silences.

Everyone made a fuss over Brynjolf upon their arrival, exclaiming over his wound and laughing at his haircut. He ruffled his hair sheepishly and stole a look at Elia, who hovered silently at the edge of the Flagon. As his eyes caught hers she looked away quickly. He realized she'd been staring. His feelings of confusion deepened.

A week passed, then another. Brynjolf's confusion turned to frustration as Elia continued to avoid him. He would approach her at meal times, only for her to excuse herself, smiling anxiously. When he asked Rune's advice, none was forthcoming.

"I dunno, Bryn. She's a complicated lady." was all he had to offer. The only thing Brynjolf could think to do was give her space. He caught himself watching her almost constantly, drawn to her any time they were in the same space. Mercer had her out on her own now, running odd jobs around Riften for Maven Blackbriar. He waited up at night to make sure she came back to the guild safely, and couldn't sleep on nights Mercer had out late.

It was one of these nights, three weeks after their return to Riften, that he sat in the Flagon, getting thoroughly drunk. Elia was off on a job at Goldenglow and wasn't expected back before dawn. Rather than lay sleepless in his room Brynjolf had started drinking just after dinner, joined shortly by Delvin and Rune, who were themselves on the way to drunk.

"I couldn't believe the haul you three brought back from Solitude," Delvin slurred. "Shame you nearly died, Bryn, but I haven't seen that much gold in a year." Brynjolf grunted in response and drained his drink. He'd been trying not to think about Solitude if he could help it. He poured himself another glass of mead.

"Would have been an excellent trip all around if not for the last bit." chuckled Rune. He reached out and ruffled Brynjolf's hair and received a dark look from Brynjolf in return.

"Well, I says to Mercer, what's the point of having all this gold if we can't enjoy it?" Delvin said, oblivious to Brynjof and Rune's exchange.

"What d'you mean, Delvin?"

"I mean a party! I told Mercer we needed a boost in morale." He banged his tankard on the table. "I couldn't believe it, but I'm pretty sure I talked him into it."

Rune raised his eyebrows. "Mercer, throwing us a party? Is he ill?"

"Said he'd provide half the booze. We've got to hunt down the food and the rest of the drinks, but I'll take what I can get." Delvin laughed. Rune seemed excited by the idea, but Brynjolf continued to sip his drink morosely. After a while Delvin produced a pack of cards and the three thieves played late into the night.

They were still at it when Elia pushed the door to the Flagon open. She was starving; her nervousness about the Goldenglow job had kept her from eating a proper meal all day. Everything had gone perfectly, however, and she wanted to celebrate by stuffing her face with as many sweetrolls as she could find. She made to walk across the bar to the storeroom but stopped dead in her tracks.

_They're… they're naked!_ She thought wildly, her mouth dropping open in shock.

Spotting her, Rune pointed and cackled, pounding his fist on the table. At second glance she realized with some relief that they _weren't_ naked, but they _were_ in various states of disrobe. Their armor and various underclothes lay scattered around the table.

"What in Oblivion is going on here?" she cried. Delvin joined in Rune's mad laughter, slopping ale down his front as he doubled over. He still wore his guild armor breeches, but nothing else. Rune looked to be the most clothed, though he still lacked his armor, boots, and gloves. As if drawn by a magnet Elia rested her eyes on Brynjolf and felt a hot flush explode in her cheeks. He was naked from the waist up, lounging comfortably with his bare feet propped upon a chair. His face was split in an amused grin. She quickly averted her eyes.

"Never heard of strip Jack, lass?" he called.

Rune struggled to stop laughing and gestured to the empty chair.

"Join, us Elia, come on!"

Elia flapped her hands at them. "I want no part in… whatever this is."

"Come on, girl. Have a drink at least!" said Delvin.

"Yeah, come tell us how your job went," Rune pressed. Elia wavered. With a sigh she crossed the bar and took the empty seat at their table between Delvin and Rune. Delvin passed her a tankard and she took a large gulp, pointedly avoiding everyone's gaze.

"All right, spill. Guessing it went well, since you're here in one piece." Rune poured the others another round of drinks. Elia nodded.

"Yes, no real problems. I'll fill Mercer in first thing in the morning." She took another long swig.

"Nice work." Brynjolf said. Elia stole a glance at him. He sat upright now, elbows on the table. Her eyes drank in the way the light from the fire reflected onto his chiseled chest and stomach and silhouetted the rounded muscles of his shoulders. He met her eye with a look of dark amusement. Nervously she downed the rest of her drink. Delvin was dealing a fresh round of cards.

"No, don't count me in," Elia said, making to stand. Rune caught her arm and pulled her gently back to her seat.

"Just a few rounds," he slurred. "You're at a major advantage here. We're all thoroughly drunk, and you've still got all your clothes."

"I don't even know how to play." Elia protested lamely, sitting again.

"It's simple," Delvin explained, doling out the last of the cards. "Keep your pile facedown. We each flip a card into the center. When you see the jack, reach out and snatch it. Whoever gets it decides who strips."

"Sounds simple enough," Elia murmured, sipping her second drink. Her head was swimming a little already. _I wish he'd quit looking at me,_ she thought to herself, feeling Brynjolf's eyes on her again.

They began the round. Starting with Delvin they took turns tossing cards onto the center of the table. After a couple of turns around the table they all were watching intently, twitching slightly at every card that revealed itself. Finally the Jack appeared and quicker than lightning they all darted for it. Their hands closed on nothing as Rune proudly flourished the card in front of them. With a noise of disgust, Brynjolf crossed his arms.

"All right, girlie. You first." Rune teased. Scowling, Elia kicked off her boots.

The next round went to Delvin, who also picked Elia. She tossed her gloves to the side, chagrined that even drunk the thieves had quicker hands. Determined, she hardly blinked through the next round, and was rewarded when her fingers snatched the Jack from the pile. The others cheered her and poured more drinks. She singled out Rune as her victim, laughing as he struggled out of his overshirt. Another round. This time the card went to Brynjolf. He pretended to consider Rune and Delvin before grinning wickedly, pointing at Elia with his winning card.

"Go on, lass."

With a shrug, Elia loosened the buckles on her cuirass and lifted it over her head. She still wore a thin leather jerkin over her undershirt, and beneath the undershirt, linen binding. Her mind starting to feel fuzzy with drink, she estimated she'd have to lose four more times before revealing anything embarrassing. _Not going to happen,_ she told herself firmly.

Rune again took the next card, this time picking Delvin. The old man cackled and shucked his pants, sending them all into gales of laughter as he did a jig in nothing but his underclothes. Brynjolf took the next round. His head nodded as he squinted between Rune and Elia. He tossed the card drunkenly in Elia's lap. Unsurprised, but slightly annoyed, she shrugged out of her jerkin, shivering slightly.

Delvin and Brynjolf were both clearly past the point of rather drunk, and were quickly slipping into extremely drunk. They both fumbled the next round pitifully, leaving Elia the winner. Calling herself a fool for drinking on an empty stomach, she finished her third drink as she surveyed Rune and Brynjolf. Rune was waggling his eyebrows and motioning to Brynjolf, who merely squinted across the table at her. Frustration welled in her mind as she thought of the last few weeks, of trying to avoid Brynjolf while forcing down her feelings about him. It wasn't working. She thought about him all the time. Feeling suddenly reckless, she flung the card at Brynjolf.

"Pants." she said tonelessly. Rune and Delvin howled with laughter, but Brynjolf didn't crack a smile as he got to his feet, staggering slightly. He met Elia's eyes as he steadied himself, and there was something she couldn't read there. She watched with a dry mouth as he slid the leather pants over his hips and to the floor. Beneath he wore low slung cotton breeches. Her eyes trailed over his angular pelvis before he sat again clad only in his smallclothes. The laughter died down, Rune and Delvin wiping tears from their eyes. Delvin got to his feet and raised his tankard to Elia.

"Cheers! Best night I've had in years. I'm off to bed." he drained the drink and slammed the tankard down. Not bothering to dress, he gathered his clothes and staggered off to bed. Rune fell into fresh laughter watching Delvin shuffle away in his underwear.

"Alright, then. To bed with us as well." He chuckled after a moment, gathering his and Brynjolf's clothes. "Goodnight, Elia." Taking his friend by the arm he guided Brynjolf down the hall to his bedroom, tossing his things in after him. Elia heard Rune exit the Flagon. She staggered to her feet, realizing that she herself was quite drunk, and gathered her own clothes.

As she shuffled past Brynjolf's bedroom, he called out to her.

"Elia, wait."

Against her better judgement she poked her head inside. Brynjolf was sprawled across the bed. Seeing her, he gestured to the small desk across the room. Upon it was a platter with a slice of bread, cheese, and some fruit.

"You haven't eaten." he said. She shook her head. "Go on, then."

Her hunger overwhelming her nervousness at being in the same small room with a nearly naked Brynjolf, she sat at the desk and began to eat. After a moment she snuck a glance at him. He was watching her, smiling slightly. She turned back to the food, blushing, and didn't look away until the platter was empty.

"Thanks." she said, rising unsteadily.

"You… don't have to go." Brynjolf said quietly.

Elia met his gaze.

"I… can't, Bryn." she whispered, backing away. "I'm sorry."

And then she was gone. Hurt and confused, Brynjolf eventually drifted off to sleep alone.


	12. Dancing Alone, Together

On the day of the party Brynjolf woke suddenly, chased by some dark dream he'd been having. It had been several days since the drunken game of strip jack, and nearly four weeks since he, Rune, and Elia had returned to Riften. As had become a habit, he ran his fingers along the nearly-healed scar on his scalp, pleased that it was healing well. You couldn't even see it, really.

He spent the early part of the day running various errands and responding to letters he'd been ignoring. Mercer was out of town, so he worked spread out over the guild master's desk, which afforded him an excellent view of the cistern. He watched guild members come and go, occasionally responding to their greetings. Taking a break from the ledger, he stretched and looked around, jumping slightly as he caught Elia staring at him from across the room. She quickly looked away and continued what she was doing, which looked to be polishing her bow. Vex approached and sat with her, pulling out her dagger and a whetstone. The two women chatted as they worked while Brynjolf watched, lost in thought.

Elia's success at Goldenglow had earned her quite a bit of respect from the other guild members. Vex in particular had come around to the Khajiit and they were often seen together in the training room, trading tips on archery and lockpicking. Brynjolf was glad that she was making friends. But he felt miserable that he was inexplicably not part of her day anymore, and often caught himself watching her morosely across the Flagon as she chatted with her friends. It further confused him because he knew she watched him, too. There was an undeniable tension any time they interacted. He respected her obvious wish to be left alone as much as possible, but when their paths crossed on guild business the air practically hummed with electricity.

For his part, Rune was still dropping hints and remarks on both sides. More than once he and Brynjolf had almost come to blows, because Rune didn't know when to stop. Elia's reaction to Rune's prodding was to ignore it entirely, though Rune noticed how her ears perked up at the mention of Brynjolf's name.

Finally evening arrived and Brynjolf returned to his room to get ready. He shed his guild armor and instead donned a pair of dark pants and an open collared linen shirt. He scrubbed his face and neck at the basin and ran a hand through his hair. Satisfied, but feeling unaccountably nervous, he left his room and entered the Flagon.

The Flagon was almost unrecognizable. Tonilia and Sapphire had strung lanterns across the ceiling and pushed all of the tables and chairs along one wall. It was cleaner than Brynjolf had seen it in years. Food was piled on a long table, and lined along the bar were a variety of casks and bottles for their drinking pleasure. He wolfed down a quick meal and promptly poured himself a large drink.

Brynjolf was never one for large gatherings and he felt distinctly awkward tonight. Since he was one of the earliest to arrive, things were still quiet. He had no doubt that the party would get more raucous and crowded as the night wore on. After a while Rune sauntered in and settled next to Brynjolf, looking him up and down.

"Well, you look lovely, Bryn."

"Shut it."

"I'm just saying!"

"Well, try not saying anything."

Just then, Vex entered, followed closely by Elia. Trying to look unfazed, he felt heat bloom in his cheeks as he drank her in from across the room. She wore a loose-fitting grey blouse and a dark green skirt that sat high on her waist. His eyes lingered on the way the fabric gathered at her hips for a long moment before he tore them away and downed the rest of his drink. Rune eyed him knowingly and rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to say hello, care to join me?" he asked pointedly, getting to his feet.

"No." Brynjolf replied shortly. With a shrug, Rune crossed the room and took Elia by the elbow, steering her to the bar.

"You look amazing." he smiled. Elia waved her hand at him.

"I feel awkward. Vex insisted on dressing me up." She plucked nervously at her shirt. Still smiling, Rune pressed a glass into her hand.

"I know someone who appreciates Vex's efforts," Rune teased.

"Don't, Rune."

"Just talk to him, Elia." Rune pleaded, no longer teasing. "You're hurting him." He added in a whisper. Elia guiltily glanced at Brynjolf, sitting alone in a dim corner, clearly trying to look anywhere but in her direction. She felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of her stomach as she surveyed him. He looked more handsome than usual, she thought. Her emergency haircut had grown enough where it didn't look uneven; it suited him. She could follow the line of his broad shoulders beneath his tunic. But his eyes, usually intense and searching, looked dully out across the Flagon. She turned away, eyes downcast. Rune sighed.

"You're both idiots," he mumbled, and left Elia to rejoin Brynjolf. She wandered over to sit with Vex and Tonilia.

Soon the Flagon was crowded with members of the guild. Most of them were already drunk. Delvin and Dirge disappeared momentarily, returning with a drum and a fiddle. After a minute of tuning, Delvin struck up a tune on the fiddle and Dirge accompanied him. There were cheers as the center of the Flagon cleared and Tonilia dragged Vekel out to the dance floor. There was stifled laughter as Niruin bowed flamboyantly to Sapphire, then a shocked silence as she took his hand and followed him to dance as well. Everyone clapped and cheered as the song ended and the dancers bowed. Even Brynjolf cracked a smile. Another song began and Sapphire laughed as both Thrynn and Vipir tried to steal her away from Niruin.

Rune winked at Brynjolf and got to his feet. His stride confident, he approached the table where Vex and Elia sat alone.

"No." Elia said immediately.

"Who's asking you?" Rune shot back. Her mouth dropped open in shock as he turned instead to Vex, taking her hand and pulling her bodily to her feet. Laughing, he pulled her out to dance despite her vehement protests. Elia laughed loudly with the rest.

Brynjolf couldn't take his eyes off Elia as she laughed merrily and clapped along to the music. His face felt hot as he got to his feet and made his way to the bar for another drink. He could feel her eyes on him, but when he glanced her way, she looked elsewhere. Feeling more irritated by the second, he leaned his back against the bar and sipped his drink, not bothering to hide his gaze as he stared across the dance floor at the Khajiit. He watched in annoyance as Cynric sidled up and joined her at the table. The good-looking Breton tossed back the rest of his drink and stood, offering his hand to Elia.

Brynjolf felt his heart drop into his stomach as she sheepishly accepted his hand and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor. _What is this?_ He asked himself. He turned away from the dancing couples, unable to bring himself to watch as that idiot Cynric led her laughing through the dance. _I don't understand._ He ran his hand through his now-short hair in frustration. His fingers trailed over the nearly healed scar that ran across his scalp. _Everything was going great until… until I almost died._ He considered the idea. _We went straight from our first kiss to me nearly dying. That's when her whole demeanor changed. What does that mean?_

The song ended and Elia returned to her seat, slightly out of breath. Making up his mind, Brynjolf set down his glass and strode over. Elia looked up at him, startled.

"Dance with me." he demanded. She glanced away.

"Bryn, I-"

" _Dance with me._ " he repeated firmly, reaching for her hand. He heard her gasp slightly as he gripped her hand, but allowed herself to be led to the dance floor. There, not caring about the eyes he could feel watching them, he trailed his hand around her waist and to her lower back. He applied firm pressure, bringing her closer as he entwined his fingers into hers. His eyes never left her face. Her hand trembled slightly as it found its place on his back, and then the music began.

The beat of the music matched the hammering of his heart. Having her this close to him, in front of everyone, guiding her through the steps of the dance- a fast jig, one he'd danced to many times as a younger man. They were soon out of breath. He could feel her relaxing into his arms, letting him lead her. He shut everything out except the rhythm of the music and the feel of Elia moving with him.

Too soon the song trailed off, the dancers slowing and moving apart. Brynjolf let Elia move slightly away from him, but didn't release her from his grip. He could feel the warmth radiating from her in the small space between them. _Does she sweat?_ He thought wildly, the implications of the idea making his stomach lurch painfully. As if reading his mind, Elia suddenly met his gaze, her silver eyes piercing him. There was something unreadable there.

"Again." he breathed. She said nothing, just maintained her stare. Delvin's fiddle began again, more slowly this time. He knew this song as well. Brynjolf pulled Elia closer, matching her intense stare with his own. Again he guided her to the music, pressing himself against her. She didn't fight him, instead lending her own weight to their movements. A slow smile unfurled across his face as the music trailed off, and Elia slowed with it, thinking the song over. Instead of dwindling off, the fiddle kicked up again faster than before. Laughing despite himself, Brynjolf lifted Elia slightly off the ground for a split second, twirling her around to continue the dance, their feet moving faster and faster in time with the music. His heart skipped when he heard a laugh burst forth from Elia and they finished the wild crescendo of the dance grinning at each other.

They were both startled as applause sounded. They'd been so wrapped up in the dance, and each other, that they hadn't noticed they had an audience. Brynjolf and Elia bowed sheepishly and pointedly ignored Rune's wide grin from across the room.

"Let me get you a drink," Brynjolf said, still not releasing Elia's hand as he led her to the bar. They both took long draughts of wine, still panting slightly from their dance. Watching her fan herself as she drank, he gently took her arm again. "Come on. Let's get a little air." She started to protest but he silenced her with a look.

They stepped out of the Flagon and into the Cistern. It was much cooler here, and seemed overly quiet after the bustle of the party. Elia sighed in relief.

"It does feel better. Thanks." They stood silently, feeling more awkward by the second.

"You're a good dancer." Brynjolf offered.

"Oh, I just followed your lead," replied Elia. "I'm not familiar with Nord music. It's lovely, though."

Brynjolf rubbed the back of his neck anxiously.

" _You_ look… lovely… tonight." he said quietly, watching Elia intently. She said nothing for a moment, then took a deep, slightly shaky breath.

"Bryn… I don't know what to say."

He pounded a fist against his thigh in frustration.

"Say something! Say… you don't care for me, say… you're embarrassed of me… give me some reason!" He threw his hands in the air and paced in front of her. "It drives me mad. I see you every day and I can't touch you. You leave and I can't stand not knowing if you're alright."

He turned to face her. She'd drawn her hands up over her mouth, watching him with those inscrutable silver eyes.

"I'm crazy about you, Elia. Why cant you just…" he sighed in frustration, losing steam. "What is it that you're so afraid of?"

Something moved behind Elia's eyes, and suddenly they were full of tears. Distraught, Brynjolf moved to comfort her.

"Lass, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shouted." He lightly grasped her forearms, pulling her to his chest. She buried her face there. After a long moment she mumbled something he couldn't understand.

"I didn't hear you, lass." Brynjolf said quietly. Elia sniffed and looked up into his face.

"I'm afraid." she said simply.

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid… of everything." she spat. "Afraid of myself, afraid of my people. Afraid of letting down the guild." she disengaged from his arms. "Afraid to dream, afraid to feel." now she was pacing, her ears laid flat against her skull. "I'm afraid to care about anyone. I'm afraid I'll hurt you. Afraid you'll hurt me!" she nearly shouted. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm… sick of being afraid." she breathed.

Brynjolf closed the space between them in an instant, taking her into his arms and pressing his mouth hungrily against hers. Elia responded eagerly, letting the taste of him drive the dark clouds of doubt from her mind. After a long moment their lips parted and they pressed their foreheads together, their hot breath mingling.

"Nothing's perfect, lass. But it's a shame not to try." Brynjolf whispered. Elia smiled in response and closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of their kiss. _He's right, of course. I need to try and… let go._

"I want to try." she whispered back.

"You can start by dancing with me again." Brynjolf teased.

And so they returned to the party, and danced together for the rest of the night, oblivious to everyone else.

**Author's Note: I had originally hoped to take this story a bit further, but I started a new job that is going to take up most of my time. Someday, I would like to finish Elia and Bryn's story, but I am happy to end it here. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. I have a couple of Dragon Age stories on the back burner I want to start posting before long.**

**For anyone interested, the songs in this chapter are by The Gloaming. The first one they dance to is Repeal of the Union, and the slow song is called The Booley House :)**


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